


Borderline

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, M/M, Past Riku/Vanitas, Sociopathy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Used to be a Oneshot, mentions of sora/kairi, now it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: There are those that are sure of who they are and what they want. Then there are those on the cusp of something new, falling out of or into bad habits, or simply finding a path that doesn't lead in circles. It's a transitory period, where clear ends define sudden beginnings, and nothing is ever the same.Riku and Sora go out for a few drinks and friendly conversation. Things get out of hand.





	1. Borderline

 

 

 

Riku orders a local blonde ale from the tap. It’s one he’s had before with sweet undertones and an initial peppery bite. Sora orders the same thing.  
  
“What makes you think you’ll like it?”

Sora smiles from the barstool next to him and shrugs. “Because you have good taste.” As if that’s all the explanation he’ll ever need. 

Riku hums a laugh. He missed that smile. “Well, I am friends with you.”

“You know it,” he chortles. His eyes take in the atmosphere of the small, downtown pub. The bartender returns with their glasses of beer. Sora allows himself a content little sigh. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve been out like this. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Yeah, it’s been way too long.”

Fingers curl around the cool glass. “You, me, n’ Kairi were inseparable when we were kids. Why should anything change now?”

“You have a point,” Riku laughs. “What about Kairi? How is she?”

“Oh, she’s fine. We’re still… never taking anything seriously. You know.” Riku nods. He does know. “It’s… weird to think that it’s been so long. That I’ve been with the same girl since high school and nothing’s really changed. But it’s great, right? I look at her and I still feel the same way I did when I was fourteen. She’s like home. It never changes, and that’s fine by me. It’s rare to find something like that…. I think.” Sora studies the foamy bubbles rising in his glass. Riku can tell he’s thinking hard about something. The silence is only slightly uncomfortable. “So what about you? Been dating anyone?”

Riku takes a long pull of peppery ale. “Sort of. On-and-off. For a month or two. It didn’t really work out.” That’s not true. He and Vanitas never had that sort of relationship. Not in a thousand years. They used each other. Vanitas looks uncannily like Sora, almost unnervingly so, and Riku had met him at a concert. It was something incredibly electric that bordered on lust, love, and hate. And they used each other. They collided only occasionally for nothing but cheap thrills and sexual release. After spending even a little time with him, it became clear that Vanitas never stops. He never settles. Riku had wondered if the boy was even capable of love. Vanitas was a dark whirlwind of futility. He was an unhealthy habit that Riku had to quit.

But that doesn’t stop him from still having Vanitas’s number saved in his phone.

Sora only shrugs and swirls his half-empty glass. “You’ll find someone eventually. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

“If you say so,” he snorts. He doesn’t believe him. Honestly, Vanitas wasn’t alone in futility. Riku couldn’t give Vanitas any more than he did. Even though he wanted to. Gods, he wanted to. It would’ve been so easy. But he couldn’t give him everything, despite the fact that Riku is sure he’d never take it. His everything is reserved for one person. Only one person.

The person sitting next to him and downing the last dregs of his beer to cover the fact that he really doesn’t know what else to say.

Riku finishes his own drink and they order another round.

“So, how’s university?” Sora asks in some stilted way to change the topic.

“Same as yours, I guess,” he shrugs. “I’m still on break for the summer, but all hell is about to break loose. I’ll probably be dead by winter.”

Sora chuckles and raises his glass. “Truer words have never been spoken. You’ll be drowning in numbers in no time.”

“There’s more to engineering than numbers.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Well, like… drafting, and…” he stalls.

Sora laughs. “Drawing with numbers. You’ve lost me already.”

Riku’s eyes narrow at him. Sora ignores it and takes a long sip of beer. After all this time, Riku is still not sure if Sora genuinely doesn’t understand, or if he’s merely not making any effort **to** understand. Riku decided long ago that he would attend university in the city, far from their small, backwater hometown. There was never any doubt in his path. But Sora stayed there. Treading water. He attends the community college back home, taking general courses. Undeclared, without a plan.

He wonders what Sora wants to do. Does Sora himself even know? He’s certain that Sora can do anything if he really wants to. If he would just put his heart into it…

Well, maybe that’s just Riku’s bias talking.

“I still think you’re underestimating yourself,” Riku mumbles.

“Huh?”

 _Shit_ . He didn’t really mean to say that. It’s too late to back out of the conversation now. “It’s like you’re staying home because it’s easy. I’m guessing you haven’t declared a major or anything yet, right? Do you not know what you want to do, or have you just never thought about it?” Sora stares silently into his glass. “ Sorry—I’m not attacking you or anything. I’m just frustrated for you. You’re too good for that place.” Riku’s mouth clicks shut as heat creeps across his face. He **really** didn’t mean to say that either.

Sora’s smile is weak. “You think so? But you’re right about one thing: I haven’t really thought about it. Not as much as I probably should… That’s a pretty bad habit, huh?”

Riku only nods, backpedalling out of the conversation he unwittingly fell into. He says nothing else about it.

Sora welcomes the change, and watches the bartender create several complicated-looking cocktails farther down the bar. After a few minutes, he hums in thought. “I wonder what that’s supposed to be.”

Riku follows Sora’s line of sight. The bartender tosses a slice of orange into a glass and begins crushing it. “Probably an Old Fashioned.”

“ **How** often do you come here again?” Sora teases.

“Enough.”

Sora only snickers and has another taste of his own drink. Riku follows his lead. The cool, peppery flavour burns its way down his throat. Their glasses are empty again before he knows it.

They order another round, and pass the lull by recounting amusing stories from their time apart. Sora, of his friend Hayner having two too many drinks on his birthday and stumbling off the pier; and Riku, of his acquaintance Axel attempting to impress a girl at a party and accidentally lighting her dress on fire.

“He was completely sober, if you can believe it,” Riku shrugs.

“And he still thought the fire was a good idea?”

“He’s unlucky,” he concedes with a slow pull of his drink. “And a pyromaniac, I think.”

Sora only laughs at that.

Riku lets his eyes wander around the pub. The sudden surge of people. The lack of empty tables. The increased volume of the music. The flickering television programs on the line of screens behind the bar. They’ve been here for a few hours now, he supposes. It is the weekend, after all. The bartender is currently being bombarded with requests, some simple, some not. A song pops up from the jukebox that he recognizes, but can’t name. The guy sitting on Sora’s other side is engrossed in some sports broadcast that no one else is paying any attention to. Riku finds himself passively watching the screens as well.

Then he says some off-the-wall, snarky comment about an ad playing on one of the televisions mounted behind the bar—so second-nature that he can’t remember what he said even a moment later—and Sora explodes with laughter. He has to lay his head down on the bar from the overwhelming mirth, completely broken down. Riku smirks at him from behind the rim of his glass. Sora’s such a lightweight. He’d almost forgotten.

But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it too. How many drinks have they had? He can’t remember. There’s a pleasant buzzing in his chest, his fingers, his lips. This is fine. He listens to Sora laugh and wonders if he knows what he’s laughing at anymore. The beer is cold and sweet and spicy. The music is loud. This is perfect. He could keep this moment forever.

He’s staring. He knows he is. But that laugh. That smile. He needs to look away, it’s too weird—too obvious! Sora holds his near-empty glass with both hands, fingers threaded together. How many glasses does this make? For either of them? The world is suddenly so loud. The jukebox. The crowd. The crashing glasses in the wash bin behind the bar. Lamp lights fall across Sora’s skin, his clothes. Everything is glazed in orange and shadows. The light seems to ripple and dance over edges and angles. Riku is still staring at him, and through all the alcohol, in the dim light of the pub, Sora doesn’t look like himself. No, if he stares hard enough… The face is the same, but his hair is black and his eyes are gold and he’s suddenly Vanitas and Vanitas **could** be Sora and it’s okay to pretend that’s true. It’s okay to use Vanitas. Because he’s not Sora. But he can be. For a moment. In the dark.

It’s okay to let the smallest affection slip because Vanitas is well-aware that it’s not actually for him, and he couldn’t care less. It’s okay to brush an unruly spike of hair from his face so he can see those eyes better. It’s okay because he’s not Sora, but he can pretend. Vanitas can be Sora but there’s no way Riku can have him so he’s also not himself and Riku will feel like a stranger in his own body and let everything go.

Who are these people?

Those eyes are are upon him. He blinks, and they’re blue. Wait. That spiky hair is brown. That’s Sora’s face, and that’s Riku’s hand, and Sora’s voice asks “What are you doing?”

Riku argues with himself over whether or not that tone is accusing. “S-sorry,” he coughs to cover it up. “You just had something—it was in your hair.”

“Oh,” he says, and finishes his drink. He completely believes it. There’s not a shred of doubt in his voice at all. No questioning tone. Nothing. “Did you get it?”

Riku curls his fingers around his own glass. It’s still ice cold. “Yeah. I got it.”

Sora hums affirmatively. He waits until Riku is finished before ordering another round.

The sudden, sharp sound of breaking glass comes from nearby and they both jump. Looks like someone dropped their drink. There are shards of glass glistening in a puddle of liquid on the floor. A rather distraught looking girl is already attempting to mop up the drink with a fist-full of napkins.

“Happens to the best of us,” Sora concedes with a thoughtful sip. He shoots Riku a sidelong glance. “Remember that graduation party?”

“How could I forget?” he laughs, instantly recalling the horrified look on Sora’s face. “Except, instead of one glass, you shattered the entire punch bowl.”

Sora slumps in his chair. “How was I supposed to know the tablecloth was plastic?”

“You got a pretty nasty cut on your hand for the trouble, too.”

“Yeah… I even had to get stitches. I don’t think that bloodstain ever came out of Kairi’s dress.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t run away screaming after that,” he scoffs.

“I know, right? I was shocked too.”

“And yet she’ll still let herself be seen with you. In public, even.”

“Just like always,” he grins.

“Nothing’s changed at all, huh?” That sounds like comfort… in stagnation. Something that Sora would be in no hurry to fix or alter. Riku can’t even imagine that sort of mindset. “So I guess that means you still haven’t slept together, right?” He could bite off his own tongue. Why is he asking this? He doesn’t want to know. He really, **really** , doesn’t want to—

“No,” Sora answers, and it’s surprisingly casual. He’s not upset, or embarrassed, or even treating it like a joke. It’s a simple fact. A simple “No.”

And he leaves it there.

Riku shifts uncomfortably in his chair. What does he say? He’s glad. He hates that he’s glad. But he is. Even though this is his best friend, that friend’s relationship and progress and happiness… Maybe he isn’t glad. He’s just **relieved** . If he were glad, that would imply some kind of expectation. It would be his brain saying: _Sora hasn’t passed the Point of No Return. There’s still hope!_ But there is no hope, because Sora loves Kairi. Always has.

Always will.

“You’re slow, as always,” Riku grumbles into his glass.

Sora huffs. “And you’re brash.”

“I don’t know why I asked. It just...”

“No, I get it,” he holds up a hand. “It’s fine. There’s a lot of beer involved.” And Sora proceeds to descend into an unflattering giggle fit.

Riku can’t help but laugh at him. “You can say that again.”

He’s still in the throes of laughter, and leans over—leans **on** him. Sora is sitting next to him at the bar. Laughing. Leaning on his arm. Does he realize what he’s doing? The physical contact sears Riku’s skin, but he doesn’t shrug him off. How could he?

He tries to take a sip of his drink—act casual—but he can’t. He’s frozen. He can’t do anything. He can’t think. He can’t **breathe**.

After so long… _how_ can Sora not know? How can he not know what he does to him?

No, it’s too much. _Too much_. It’s absolutely, incredibly, horrendously overwhelming. He cant… he can’t take it anymore! Fight or flight initiates like fire, and Riku excuses himself before fleeing towards the restroom.

He splashes cold water onto his face from the sink and gasps for breath. That could’ve been bad. His brain is swimming from the alcohol. And with Sora leaning like that… he could’ve gotten lost in a daydream again. He might’ve acted on it. There’s no way he can allow that to happen. Ever. He already decided, years ago, that Sora can never know. The awkwardness would be too much for him to take, and then he’d distance himself, and that’s the last thing Riku wants.

He can see the sequence of events clearly in his mind. The shocked, guilty, and pained look that will come over Sora’s face. The long periods of silence. The distance. The dying embers of their friendship. He doesn’t want to see it.

He splashes more water onto his face to wash away the thoughts. To steel himself. This is supposed to be a fun outing with Sora. They’re supposed to be hanging out, catching up on lost time over a few drinks. It isn’t supposed to be an endurance test. He takes a few slow, calming breaths as water drips from his face. He tells himself that he can do this.

And then someone pushes the door open, making much more noise than can possibly be necessary. Riku leans up from the sink and his breath halts. Sora looks at him. “You’ve been in here awhile. Are you okay?”

He swallows hard. His brain jolts to life. He suddenly remembers Vanitas, and how easy it had been. How easy it was when they were in bed, just a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, to put Sora there in his place. He could squint and see Sora’s crescent scar on Vanitas’s stomach. The permanent blemish on his shoulder from too many long days on the beach. It was so easy. He probably called out Sora’s name on occasion too, but he can’t remember. If he did, Vanitas didn’t care. Didn’t even mention it.

And now he’s here, and Sora is standing there inside his small and grimy pub bathroom with his shirt clumsily unbuttoned past his collarbones and easy smile and eyes slightly glassy and more than a little tipsy from all the beers they’ve shared and Riku wonders how easy it would be. His foggy mind thrashes in its lethargy. It’s screaming. _Look at how easy it is_ , it says. _It’s easy to put Vanitas there. It’s like you know every inch of him. Just imagine it_ . And that’s all he can ever do because Sora is standing right in front of him but he can never, ever reach him. Never touch him. _Hold him. Do it._ He wants to _pull him into your arms_ more than anything, anything it’s absolutely **aching** . And he still hasn’t replied to Sora’s question at all because that _beautiful_ easygoing smile has turned to a concerned _pout_ frown so he really needs to _do_ say something but he’s too afraid that he’ll _tell him everything already and hold him to your chest so you don’t have to see the look of disgust and guilt on his face._

No.

_No._

He has to say something. He can’t feel his lips anymore. They’re filled with glass upon glass of that sweet, blonde ale. His tongue is too big for his mouth and he can’t shape his words right. “I lied to you.” _No, this isn’t what I’m supposed to say_ . “Earlier, I mean. And I need to tell you. I really, really need to tell you,” _that I’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake! And_ “When you asked me if I’d been dating anyone, I lied. I haven’t. Only… casual flings. It felt,” _so damn good,_ “awful, really… So please,” _please_ , “don’t think any less of me. But I just don’t know what to do. I’ve never _found anyone good enough_.” Riku bites down on his numbed lip. He’d said that last part out-loud, didn’t he?

But Sora is laughing. That smile is sweeter than the beer. “ **That’s** what’s bothering you? Really, Riku. How could I ever think less of you? Are you nuts?” He shifts his weight to his other foot, swaying a little too far. “But I get it. It must be hard finding someone good enough for you. I mean, you’re amazing.”

_No. Please. Please don’t say that._

“I’ve never met anyone else like you,” Sora smiles, and Riku can’t breathe.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” What that all one word? “That’s not it. I’m nothing. I’m… What I mean is… No one’s ever good enough to… to,” _take **your** place._ “To,” _make me forget about **you**_. “To,” _pull my heart from the grip you’ve had it in since I was thirteen. No one is **ever** good enough because they’re never **you**! How can I possibly look for someone else when I still can’t look away from **you**!? Don’t you get it?!_ The silence settles heavy. Riku can only hear his heartbeat screaming in his ears.

Sora licks his lips unconsciously, his eyes as wide as saucers.

And Riku realizes with a great, avalanching horror that he’d said all of that aloud, and Sora heard each and every word.

“Fuck.” Riku knows he says this, but he doesn’t hear it. “I’m sorry, I—” and of course Sora is standing between him and the goddamned door so how the hell is he supposed to run away from this? “I was just—” He can’t breathe it’s so damn hot in here what the fuck is he supposed to do now?! _Fucking damn it. Oh, fuck._

_**Fuck!** _

He says that aloud too.

And then his back hits the wall. Sora’s hands tighten around his shoulders. “Wait. **Wait** . Please.” He’s staring… at Riku’s throat? No, that thousand-yard stare… He’s gazing at nothing. Sora’s grip tightens still, and Riku feels the pressure of every single finger. Panic crawls slowly up his chest like acid. _This is it. Everything’s ruined_.

Sora releases a huge breath and it smells like ale. “Wait.” He’s pressing Riku into the wall. Leaning. He’s close. Too close. “I think I’m drunk.”

Riku can’t stop himself. He laughs.

“Did… Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”

And he chokes on that laugh. “I—No, I—I didn’t. Really—”

“You know, Riku,” he sneers, “you’re still a terrible liar. The worst.”

He can only squeeze his eyes shut. “Sora, please...”

“You… You **love** me?”

“Sora...”

“You love **me**?”

“Please.”

“But I—” and he suddenly looks devastated, “I had no idea. So you—all this time… and that’s why—but… shit. Shit!” He leans— _stop_. He’s too close. _He’s far too close!_ The air fills with beer and crisp shampoo. _Too close_. “I’m such a shitty friend. I’m so sorry.”

Wait. “What?”

“If you’ve… felt this way… all this time, and all the things we talk about… it—it must be torture.”

He swallows the knot in his throat. There’s no way he can deny that.

“And I didn’t know. I’m sorry. That’s awful. Riku, I’m so, so **sorry**.”

“Stop apologizing,” he murmurs. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He feverishly shakes his head. “But I still feel terrible.”

“That’s because you’re you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You care too much.” _Stop. That’s far enough_. “You break yourself over others’ happiness. Even when it isn’t your concern. Even when you’re not responsible. Even when… you’re the one that’s miserable.” Sora gawks up at him, but he can’t return that stare. He can’t do it. “You smile, even if you’re sobbing. I’ve seen it. You really… ought to look after yourself more. Don’t worry about me. I—”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “Shut up, Riku. Shut **up**! Don’t say that! Of **course** I’m going to worry about you! You’re my **friend** , moron! And I care about you. You deserve happiness too. You keep talking like you’ve already given up hope.”

“Well, yeah,” he scoffs. “What hope could I possibly have? I fell for **you** , remember?” Those words feel so wrong on his tongue. His ears hardly recognize them.

“I’m sorry. I’m useless. I—”

“ **Please** stop apologizing. Getting rejected once is enough.”

“But it’s not a rejection,” Sora blurts, and Riku finally meets his gaze. He can see Sora’s mind suddenly spring to life. The gears are spinning wildly in his head. “It’s not a rejection,” neither of them knows if that’s a question or a statement.

That can’t be right. “It’s not?”

Brows furrow. Sora’s unfocused eyes search the far distance for a hint. An answer. “No,” he finally admits. But it doesn’t help him at all. “So… what does that mean?”

“That’s my line,” Riku mumbles. “Sora, what are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he says, “I really don’t know.”

 _Of course not_. “You’re drunk.”

“Fuck you, so are you,” he laughs. It isn’t harsh at all. “I mean, you—you just—”

“ _Confessed_ ,” _like an idiot_. Riku’s mouth clicks shut. He said some of that aloud again, huh?

Sora just keeps laughing. “Fuck you. This is all your fault.” He’s leaning again. It’s close. _It’s too—_ “I’m drunk and it’s all your fault.”

Riku laughs once. It’s forced. “Guilty.”

His touch is like needles. Sora lays his forehead against his chest like he’s resting on a wall. The mechanisms in Riku’s mind come to a sudden, screaming halt.

_No—_

_Please—_

_This is—_

Sora draws a noisy breath. “You smell like beer.”

 _Is that all?_ “So do you.” Why is his voice trembling?

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckles. “But you had two more than me.”

“Was it really that much?”

“I think so. I mean. I kinda lost count.”

Riku can’t even pretend to be surprised. “I see.”

“But it was more! It had to be. Because you can hold your alcohol better than me. Way better. You’re always getting me drunk, you jerk.” He punches his chest. “You’re an enabler! But **now**! Now **you’re** drunk too! It’s like I’ve found a unicorn! It exists after all!”

“A unicorn, huh?” he laughs. Sora’s breath is hot through his shirt.

“Yeah! And you,” he stops short, turning the words over in his mouth, “you told me you love me.”

“ _Don’t remind me_.” He really can’t feel his lips anymore. He can’t even control them.

“And I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know anything, after all. I’m hopeless.”

“What—?”

“Kairi said that I have no idea what love is,” he throws the words down like they’re discussing the weather. Riku holds his breath as if the air could shatter those words. “And what if she’s right? How would I know? She’s frustrated. Because I’m an idiot. And I’m sorry. And drunk. Sorry.”

Riku waits for him to continue. He doesn’t. “So… she said that?”

He nods against his shoulder. “Mhm. I want… Is there anything...” then he backtracks, shaking the thoughts from his head. “Tell me. Riku, what do you want me to do?”

 _So many things_ , his mind cries. But he knows he can’t say that. Not in good conscience. “Nothing that I can ask of you,” he admits.

Sora doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “But I still feel awful. Guilty, for hurting you.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for me. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. If **I’m** the one hurting you then it’s **my** fault!” There’s no argument for that. “And it’s not just you. I’ve caused a lot of hurt because I’m an idiot and blind and probably broken on some level, but—”

“Sora,” he chides.

“No. Just listen. Please. I’m drunk. And I don’t know if this will make any sense. But I need to say it. So just listen, okay? Listen.” Sora takes a deep breath like gathering thoughts. “I came here to see you. That’s true. But I also… wanted a break away from home. After what Kairi said, I… I don’t know. I need to think about everything. About… how I feel and why we’ve been walking in circles for so many years. And then what you said—you **confessed** , to **me** and—it’s not making it easier.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Shut up and listen. I need to think about this. But I’m too drunk right now. Later. I need to figure myself out. And Kairi… I really do still feel the same way I did when I was fourteen. That wasn’t a lie. So if she’s right, I… still have some half-assed crush on her or something. But that’s it. And I don’t want to half-ass that. So I need to take some time to think. When I’m not drunk.” He pulls in another huge breath. It almost sounds like a laugh. “You know, I was actually going to ask you for advice. But I could never lead into it. I’m a coward. But. Well. Maybe it’s for the best. I guess I can’t ask you anymore, huh? That would be cruel. I think.”

“ _You know that telling me all this is just going to fool me into thinking I have a chance, right?_ ” He bites down on his lip again. Why the hell did he say that?

Sora snickers. “Sorry.”

Riku swallows the lump in his throat. He has to be careful. His mouth keeps betraying him. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he deflates. “I don’t know. Think? But sleep first. I definitely need to sleep. I can’t… think like this.”

“Fair enough.”

Sora finally leans away from him and sways dangerously. Riku has ahold of his shoulders in an instant, keeping him steady. He starts laughing to himself. A frown forms on Riku’s face. It’ll be a while before they can head back. He doubts Sora can make the four block walk to his cousin’s place in this condition. Highly.

So he leads Sora back into the raucous atmosphere of the pub and pushes him onto his barstool. The bartender gives Riku a pointed look. Just how long had that conversation lasted? Riku has no idea. It could’ve been ten minutes. It could’ve been an hour.

He shrugs and gestures towards Sora with a tilt of his head. It doesn’t hurt that the brunette currently has his face buried in his hands. The bartender nods, eventually returning with two glasses of cold water.

They drink carefully, without many words. Riku would be lying if he called the silence uncomfortable. There’s nothing nice about this void. The loud music and other patrons drown out his thoughts. Not that he really wants to think too much about anything right now. Anxiety festers like a stone in his guts. He can barely hold still. He spends an indefinite amount of time studying the rippling light within his glass of water with his brain shut off.

_What’s going to happen now?_

No. Stop. Don’t think about it. Not here. Not now.

Not ever. Forget it.

He rakes a hand through his hair and downs the rest of the water. He looks at the clock mounted behind the bar. It’s been an hour. Yeah. That feels right. He’s not nearly as tipsy as he was when—

No. Never mind. He doesn’t want to think about that.

He glances at Sora. His friend is starting intently at the empty glass in front of him. A tight frown pulls on his lips. He’s lost in thought. Riku doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sora think so seriously about anything. 

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? He honestly isn’t sure. 

It doesn’t take much coercing to get Sora off his stool. They pay their tabs, and leave the noises of the pub behind.

“You’re staying with your cousin, right?” Riku asks, already walking in that direction.

Sora nods. “Yeah. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

Which isn’t far from Riku’s own place either. This cousin of his must go to the same university. Of course, when they arrive at the small townhouse a few minutes later, Sora’s cousin looks at Riku with such… indignation. Riku can’t help but glare back. Roxas, was it? He’s never met the guy in his life. Such a look is entirely uncalled for.

Sora doesn’t seem to notice any of it. He says his goodbyes and disappears inside.

Roxas curtly thanks Riku for getting Sora back safely and shuts the door in his face.

Riku stands there incredulously for a moment. What the hell is that guy’s problem?

 _Whatever_. It doesn’t matter. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads for home.

But then it’s a block later and he’s still scowling. Looks like Roxas managed to irk his already foul mood after all. What did Riku ever do to him, anyway? If he wanted to get glared at like that, he’d go find Vanitas. At least that guy only halfway means it.

There’s a sudden clenching in his chest. He… could still do that.

So many thoughts are swirling around his brain, just behind a thin veil of whatever alcohol is left in his system. He still doesn’t want to think about it. How he’s just ruined everything. The options for distractions… Maybe. Maybe he should.

It’s a horrible, unhealthy habit and he knows it. But no one else is better at distracting him. Right? It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.

Honestly, it never is.

Riku shakes the thoughts from his head. Why is he trying to justify it? He can’t do that.

Well.. He **can** . But that doesn’t mean he **should**. He’s fucked up enough tonight.

It’s hopeless anyway. What does it matter?

Maybe it doesn’t matter at all.

He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s all so wrong. But what isn’t anymore? He can’t stop himself, and then his phone is out of his pocket and he finds Vanitas’s number and quickly thumbs a message drenched in ulterior motives:

[You busy tonight?]

It’s a long shot. A stupid shot. It’s already midnight. He shouldn’t even be doing this at all. It makes him feel sick inside. No answer. He keeps trudging along the sidewalk in silence, heading for home. The phone doesn’t chime. It doesn’t return to his pocket either. It stays in his grip. Will Vanitas even respond? Not likely. He’s probably out somewhere, drowning in loud music and strong drinks, not worrying about anything or anyone and not bothering to look at his phone at all because who cares what time it is? Riku should’ve known better. Vanitas always tears through his life like a whirlwind, raising his heart rate for a thrill, nothing but a few moments, and leaving destruction in his wake. He never stops. For anything. Riku has all but given up as time crawls by and he inches closer to home. There’s no way.

A metallic chime comes from the phone in his hand. No way in hell. It won’t be from him.

But it is. It’s a text from Vanitas. Almost ten minutes have passed, but there’s finally a response:

{Shitty thing about rock shows…}  
{Once the band is finished, they kick you out of the bar.}

Riku could’ve laughed. Leave it to Vanitas to reply to such an obvious message with nonsense.

[So you’re not?]

{Please. It was a metalcore show.}  
{I can’t party with these people.}  
{I’d break them.}

[Yeah probably]

{So}  
{Should I break you instead?}

[Think you’ll be able to?]

{Only one way to find out.}  
{Usual place?}

[Yeah]

{Booze?}

[Of course]

{Sold.}  
{So what? Your plans fall through or something?}

[Worse]

{?}

Fingers hesitate over the screen. He knows what comes next. What he has to say. _I confessed to my best friend. Even though it was hopeless. I can’t face him anymore now._

Well. Maybe he shouldn’t say **all** of that.

But he can’t say anything at all. He doesn’t want to see those words on his screen. To relive it. It’s too much. Riku doesn’t type anything, and eventually Vanitas concedes to his own apathy:

{Well, whatever.}

But still, he wants to tell someone. If only to prove whether or not it actually happened. In that case, why not tell someone that doesn’t care? His fingers slowly begin moving.

[I drunkenly confessed to my best friend]

It’s a full minute before Vanitas responds:

{Holy shit.}

[Yeah]

{Fuck. You poor bastard.}

He doesn’t say anything to that. He can’t deny it either. He’s already climbed the stairs of his building and entered his apartment when the next message comes through:

{Okay. Got it.}

Vanitas leaves it at that. The conversation ends, and Riku plucks a bottle of bourbon from a high kitchen cabinet. He takes his time pouring a glass, and drinks it straight.

He’s halfway through his second glass when there’s a knock at the door. That concert must’ve been fairly close. Riku makes his way back through the kitchen, fleetingly wondering which band Vanitas had seen tonight. He’d said it was metalcore, right? Something heavy and screaming and loud. Pits of people in black shoving and punching each other for fun. Riku can admit to enjoying the spectacle.

He doesn’t care enough to ask for specifics, and opens the front door with the thoughts already slipping his mind. A dark-haired boy is standing in the doorframe. He looks so much like Sora. He’s wearing all black, a tight-fitting shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and Riku notices for not the first time that Vanitas has more muscle than his brunette counterpart. Exposed skin peeks out from strategic rips in his slim, dark jeans. It’s clear that the body spray he applied hours ago has lost its punch, and can no longer cover the smell of sweat and cigarettes he picked up at the concert. The musky mixture isn’t entirely unpleasant.

He takes one look at Riku and smirks. It’s a face Sora has never made. “Rough night?”

“The worst.”

A dark laugh bubbles from his chest as he makes his way inside, heading straight for the kitchen area. Riku follows close behind. That feeling of wrongness slowly dissipates upon the other’s arrival. Or maybe that’s the alcohol burning it away. It’s difficult to say.

The bourbon is still on the countertop. Vanitas takes a deep breath and his face instantly scrunches. “You smell like beer. Are you mixing your alcohol, young man?”

“The beer wore off a long time ago,” he grumbles, a lie, and drops into a seat at the table.

Vanitas scoffs. “If you say so. You know I’ll always support your bad decisions.” He doesn’t hesitate to cross the kitchen and snatch the bottle of bourbon. “Not that I would call bourbon a bad decision,” he grants, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and pouring himself some of the amber liquid. He didn’t even ask. Riku isn’t surprised in the least. Vanitas helps himself. He knows where everything is. Since when was this apartment such a familiar environment for him? Riku can only wonder as Vanitas leans back against the counter and takes a slow sip of his drink. He makes a face as it goes down. “Much better. The drinks at the bar were weak as hell tonight.” 

“Aren’t they always?” Riku huffs.

“Yeah,” he sighs, having another sip. The following pause isn’t uncomfortable. Riku downs his own drink in the silence, and Vanitas smirks again. “Trying to forget something?”

The glass meets the table with a hollow thunk. “You know I am.”

That look. He’s obviously enjoying this. “So you actually confessed, huh?”

“In a drunken stupor.”

“That fuckin’ sucks.”

“You have no idea,” Riku mutters, standing beside Vanitas and refilling his glass.

“So that’s what you’ve been running from all this time,” he muses.

“Huh?”

“And it’s your best friend too?” He shakes his head. “You poor bastard. I don’t envy you.”

Riku takes a hateful pull of his drink. “You should write greeting cards.”

“I’ve never claimed to be a therapist. Are you really expecting counseling from me?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. ‘Cause if you were, I’d say you’ve got more problems than being hopelessly in love with your best friend.”

He can’t stop the laugh. “Hopeless is right...”

Vanitas has a contemplative drag of his drink. His glass is empty already. “I’d ask how you managed to spill your deepest, darkest secret, but I think I have an idea.”

“Oh, really?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you just spat it out. You’re a blathering drunk, Riku. Surely you know that?”

He runs a hand down his face with a grimace. “I did not.”

“It’s impossible to shut you up sometimes,” he chuckles, and refills his drink.

Riku stands there, slightly miffed that Vanitas didn’t warn him about that sort of behaviour. But really, would it have mattered in the end? There’s no way of knowing. Still, he wouldn’t mind taking a similar jab at Vanitas as payback. Where to start? A smirk breaks across his face. “Would you believe me if I said I was thinking of you the whole time?”

Vanitas scoffs into his glass and counters without missing a beat: “Only because it lessens the guilt from imagining all the things you want to do to that friend of yours.” Riku can’t deny that’s true. But it still burns to hear it out-loud. “I’m honored to be his imaginary stand-in.”

“No you’re not.”

“Well,” he grins, “I feel like I got the better end of the deal.” Riku wants to argue with that, but can’t seem to find the words. “Since I get all the benefits.” Vanitas suddenly turns on him, closing any distance that exists, and pressing into him. Riku’s back digs into the edge of the countertop, but he doesn’t lean away. The familiarity of that presence, the feeling of their chests flush against each other, is almost worrisome. His brain short circuits. Vanitas’s smirking face is swimming in his vision. He’s not quite seeing double yet. A single pair of golden eyes gleam up at him. Riku only thinks of how Vanitas is taller than Sora, though not by much.

Hands are on his face. Riku sighs, as if defeated. And for once, Vanitas’s image doesn’t twist. It doesn’t warp. He’s not Sora. He’s Vanitas—doing what he wants. Riku doesn’t move.

And then Vanitas backs off, just a suddenly as he approached. He’s still smirking in that smarmy way of his. “But you didn’t call me here for that, did you?” he remarks, glass of bourbon tilted to his lips.

Riku blinks, and everything stops. His vision clears. “That’s… true.” He hears the surprise in his own voice. There’s nothing stirring within him. No want. No need. It **is** true. So then, why? Why did he call Vanitas here? Why did he feel like he **needed** to? His unsure legs carry him to the table and he sits down. Again, he finishes his drink in the silence of thought. “I just...” words get tangled together. Is he slurring? “I… wanted some company.” Is that it? What does that mean? He’s only ever contacted Vanitas for one thing, but now…

Vanitas huffs. “From me? I only showed up for the free booze.” Something in his voice makes it clear that it’s not entirely true.

And that’s what does it. Riku lays his head on the table and laughs. “I didn’t even notice.” Vanitas sends him a narrow glance. “When did I actually start to enjoy your company?”

“Is that an insult?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, _we are friends, aren’t we_?”

Vanitas stares at him for a long time. The gleam in his eyes is almost like shock. Looks like he hadn’t noticed it either. “You really are hopeless,” he smirks.

“Believe me, I know,” he chuckles. “I know that better than anyone.”

Vanitas watches him and slowly sips his glass of bourbon. Riku isn’t paying him any mind, his arms propped on the table, eyes buried in his hand, and laughing softly to himself over the recent revelation. Is it really so hilarious to his drunken mind?

Vanitas’s glass is empty. “Friends, huh?” He watches the residual liquid pool at the bottom of the glass, not enough for even a drop. “I guess that’s fine.” Is he frowning or smiling? Not even he can tell anymore.

“Now that I think about it, we must be pretty good friends,” Riku suddenly muses, words only slightly slurring. “ _It’s not often that people who’ve slept together get along as well as we do._ ”

Golden eyes roll so far he almost falls over. “You know what, Riku, I can’t argue with that.” The other boy leans back and laughs towards the ceiling. A wicked sort of smile spreads over Vanitas’s face. “But, when you put it that way, wouldn’t that make us Friends with Benefits?”

“Extremely unhealthy benefits. Detriments, even.”

Vanitas snorts, “Speak for yourself. I’m not worried about my health.”

That earns him another chuckle. Riku really should’ve expected that answer. The black-haired boy is nothing if not apathetic. And borderline cold. Detached… What had Riku called him once? ‘A dark whirlwind of futility.’ No matter how he looks at it, it seems like a rather lonely existence. Although he doubts Vanitas cares about such things. He’d probably laugh at him for thinking about it at all. “Vanitas, have you ever emotionally connected to **anyone** ? **Ever**?”

His expression is flat as he tops off his glass. “No. We’ve been over this. I’m a sociopath. I **can’t** connect.”

“I remember,” Riku sighs, and rubs his face with his hands. “I must have a thing for emotionally damaged people or something. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Sociopathy isn’t a hindrance,” he shrugs. “To me, anyway.”

“You think so?”

“From where I’m standing, it’s definitely the better choice. Do you realize how gloomy you look?”

He grimaces again. “I can only imagine.”

“Yeah, it’s downright depressing.”

Riku can’t help but roll his eyes. “Well, I’m **so** sorry about that,” he scoffs. Vanitas’s grin doesn’t falter. “You’re so openly enjoying my misery. Are you sure you’re not actually a sadist?”

He only shrugs. “Who knows?”

A huge breath deflates his lungs. His glass is empty again, but he probably shouldn’t have any more. It’s already four in the morning. Riku rocks his head on his shoulders. The bottle of bourbon sits on the countertop next to Vanitas, three-quarters empty. Holy shit. Have they really drank that much? His fingers are a little numb… Okay, very numb. But Vanitas seems okay. What the hell? Smug bastard.

Well. Scratch that. It’s difficult to say. They’ve drank together several times, and Vanitas never makes it too obvious that he’s tipsy. Not like Riku, apparently, who spills his guts without restraint. No, Vanitas is more subtle. But now that Riku takes a closer look, those yellow eyes are glassy with alcohol. He’s definitely feeling it. It’s kind of funny. Sora wears his intoxication on his sleeve. In his face. His movements. His speech. Vanitas looks so much like him, and yet… he’s entirely different, isn’t he? Riku can barely read his mood right now. What is he smirking at?

Vanitas lifts a questioning brow, and Riku suddenly realizes he’s staring. He runs a hand down his face, but doesn’t apologize for it. Vanitas doesn’t seem to care either.

And when he stands up from his chair, all the liquor drains to his feet. His legs turn weak as the world spins around him. It only lasts a moment. His vision tries to focus, but he’s seeing through a dirty windowpane. Good enough. He takes his empty glass and heads for the sink, hoping that he isn’t staggering. The room blurs as he moves. This is so much worse than the beer buzz he had earlier. He really went overboard with the bourbon, huh?

Vanitas doesn’t laugh at him, so he supposes he’s walking well enough. He draws some water from the sink into his glass and guzzles it down.

“Turning in already?”

Riku doesn’t answer. He practically forces himself to have a second glass of water. Two should be enough to prevent any hangover. He hopes. He draws a third glass and steps towards Vanitas, shoving it into his hands.

The other boy smirks and says something snarky before downing the drink in one go.

Riku’s world starts to tilt out of focus then. He stands next to Vanitas and leans against the counter. They talk… about something trivial, he’s sure. All he knows is that they exchange words. Even though his lips are entirely numb at this point. His words slur together and Vanitas laughs. Riku shoves his shoulder. Vanitas shoves back. Forcefully. It’s not very friendly, he thinks. But Vanitas doesn’t know any better. Riku stumbles over the word “sociopath.” Vanitas shoves him again.

They’re both laughing now. Voices come in clips and broken phrases. His mouth responds before his brain can even grasp all the words spoken.

“ _Even if you are_ ,” “ _we’re friends._ ” “ _So I won’t abandon you._ ”

Breath. “guess so.” A pause. “If you did,” “I suppose I’d,” “emptier.”

“ _I’ll take that as a compliment._ ”

He scoffs. “massive compliment,” “idiot.”

There’s warmth at his side. It’s a long moment of nothing. “ _Turning in already?_ ” That sounds familiar.

Vanitas sighs. Warmth leaves. “Guess so.”

The room suddenly changes. When did he get here? He must’ve walked, but—

Vanitas flops onto the bed. His bed. Hold up. “ _Vanitas... what are you doing?_ ”

“Fuck off,” it’s loud and clear. “Like we haven’t shared a bed before.” His mind is reeling with clarity. “I won’t be demoted.” Riku can’t say anything in sensory overload. “I’d promise to keep my hands to myself, but I’ve never been good at keeping promises.”

He’s too tired to fight it. Honestly, he’s pretty sure Vanitas is also too tired to carry out that threat. Or taunt. Tease? He’s certainly that.

Riku collapses on top of the covers, taking the smallest bit of comfort from the feeling of a warm body next to his.

He must be broken.

And then Riku’s eyes open to the morning, thankful to not have a hangover. And much to his relief, despite the fact that Vanitas is essentially passed out on top of him, they’re still fully clothed.

Wait. Not quite. Vanitas seems to have lost his shirt at some point. Odd, but not concerning.

His hands find his phone buried within the folds of the sheets. The screen flares to life and his heart lurches into his throat. 

11:19 A.M.  
9 Missed Calls  
14 Messages.

They’re all from Sora. Riku swallows thickly. His throat feels like it’s full of sand.

There’s only a moment’s hesitation before he opens the novella of text messages.

(I remember what we talked about last night. I mean, how could I forget?  
Sorry, if you wanted me to. But I can’t. I wont! I’ve been thinking about  
everything. I could barely sleep. I know. Weird right? But I kept  
remembering that scared look on your face and I’ve never ever seen you  
look like that. Ever. So… Don’t worry.)

(I know you’re laughing at that right now but I’m serious. Don’t worry.  
… I’m actually pretty terrified that you’re going to disappear on ME. Like  
you’d ever run away from anything right? But I can’t stop thinking about  
it. So I want to tell you some things)

(You’re my best friend. Don’t ever forget that)

(I’m still thinking about what to do. I need some time)

(It’s still not a rejection)

(There’s nothing that I would do for Kairi that I wouldn’t do for you)

(It’s awful to think so… but I’m happy. Even though it must hurt you so  
much. Telling me how you feel… I was actually happy to hear it)

(Shocked. Really shocked. But happy.)

(So please. Give me time. And don’t go anywhere. Okay?)

(Riku?)

(Please answer me)

(Hey!)

(Don’t run away from me)

(Please, Riku…)

The coil in his chest has wound so tight it’s aching. The anxiety in Sora’s messages twists its way through his rib cage. He can’t hesitate now.

Lulling in that half-sleep haze, and with Vanitas still asleep on his chest—ever blurring the platonic lines between them—he thumbs a quick response. He presses send before he can overthink it. If there’s anything to overthink.

Vanitas briefly stirs, but doesn’t wake. Riku remains unmoving, rereading the messages on his screen several more times.

Now he can only hope. That is, if he can even afford to.

 

[ _Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere_ ]  
[ _Promise_ ]

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This fic has an alternate ending. I'm seriously considering cleaning it up and tacking it on, because it's fun in its own right.
> 
> BUT, I also have an entire AU hiding in here, and this fic could easily become something with four or five chapters (if it's worth pursuing?) and a much less ambiguous ending. So, with that in mind, I will confirm that the ending above is canon.
> 
> There's lots of experimentation in here, the formatting especially and, well, lots of things! I hope everything worked out okay. And we're totally gonna ignore the fact that Riku's initial text to Vanitas was a booty call. Most definitely. Bad habits die hard. Also, just to throw it out there, writing drunk!Sora is extremely rewarding and so much fun. 10/10 would do again. And, uh, I did no research at all for the drinking scenes. Promise. Don't look at me like that. 
> 
> Ahaha, remember to drink responsibly, everyone~ Preferably with people you trust.
> 
> [EDIT: This fic has been officially continued. More info in the next chapter!]


	2. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which coffee cures all ailments. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter Title pending]
> 
> Yes, it's true. I ended up liking this AU so much that I couldn't stay away. I had to come back and finish this catastrophe. (Also due to the unexpected support I received from various sources. Including here! So, stand_by_me, Courtney, cubedsugar, and everyone that left kudos- here's to you!) I'm back with weird formatting and text experimentation!
> 
> (This hasn't actually been beta'd, though... so, sorry if it's lackluster.)
> 
> With that said, I estimate that this will be four chapters total. No idea when it'll be done, though... Anyway, let's get on with it!

 

**2**

 

Sora waits until Roxas shuts the door before wobbling over and throwing his arms around his neck. “Roooooxaaaaas!”

“You’re loud! Get off of me!” Roxas swats at him with both arms. “You reek of beer!”

Sora only tightens his grip. “But—but Roxas. Wait. Listen!”

“Get **off**!” he twirls and stumbles further into the townhouse in an attempt to break Sora’s hold. It doesn’t work.

“Listeeeeeen,” he sings, but Roxas isn’t having it. The blonde struggles until Sora is practically draped over his back.

“I knew this would happen,” he grumbles. “I **knew** you’d be totally fucked. Well, I’m not taking care of you! Now **get off**!”

Sora can’t stop laughing. “Roxas, listen! Just listen! I need—I think I need to talk to you! Please!”

“You **need** to go to bed and leave me alone!” He tries to dump Sora onto the couch. This also doesn’t work, and Sora drags him down with him. He doesn’t even mind being squashed beneath the blonde’s meager weight. Roxas rubs at his face and groans, “Why me?”

“Because you’re my cousin and you’re really super smart and I trust you and need to talk to you! Really! It’s important!”

“Sora, I don’t have time to take care of you. I have a huge project due on Monday. I told you not to get too drunk.” Sora makes a sound like a whine, and shakes him. Roxas clicks his tongue. “I should’ve known that friend of yours would be a bad influence, as always.”

“Hey, c’mon, Riku’s not a bad guy,” Sora chuckles. “You’d know that if you ever really got to know him.”

“No thanks.”

He keeps his cousin in that makeshift headlock. The latter has given up struggling against it already. “So—so Roxas. Roxaaas. Roxy. Rooox—”

“ **What**.”

“Will you listen?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

He sighs. “At least let me go first.” And Sora releases his neck. They both sit up on the old couch. Roxas tiredly watches his cousin bounce in his seat. “Fine. What is it?”

Sora’s face turns deathly serious. “First. First, you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. No one at all. Ever. You have to take this to your grave. No one can know that you know—and no one can know that I told you. Okay?”

Roxas blinks. “Uh, sure.”

“Promise.”

“Alright. I promise. I won’t tell a soul.”

Sora breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. I wish I could handle this myself, but I don’t know what to do. I need to talk it over with someone. I need to figure out what to do.”

Roxas crosses his arms and sinks deeper into the couch. “Why didn’t you talk it over with Riku? I thought he was your friend.”

“Because now it’s **about** Riku!” he blurts.

Roxas instantly leans forward. Sora could swear the blonde is trying his best to stifle a smile. “Oh, really?”

Sora bites down on his lip. He’s not sure he likes that expression. “Yeah.”

“Go on,” he presses. That grin is downright hungry.

Sora begins to second-guess his choice here, but it’s far too late to back out now. Besides, Roxas promised to keep the secret. “Remember, you promised,” he reminds him anyway.

He waves a hand. “Yeah, of course. This will be for my enjoyment only.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Sora grumbles. Roxas doesn’t take it back. “Okay. Well. Riku and I, we went to a bar a few blocks from here. It was a lot of fun. The beer was really good.” Just talking about the drinks makes that numbness creep back into his fingers.

Roxas snorts. “No kidding. Smells like you swam in it.”

“C’mon,” he chides, smacking Roxas’s arm. “But I guess you’re right. We were both drunk. Really drunk. I’m still kinda drunk.” He can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. He’s sure Roxas is giving him a look, but he doesn’t really care. “And I was trying not to think the whole time. Which is probably how I got so drunk. But whatever. That doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to think. After Kairi said that I don’t actually love her—I didn’t want to think about anything.”

“Whoa, wait. What?” Roxas leans again. This time he actually looks concerned. He’s such a good guy, Sora thinks. What would he do without him? “She actually said that?”

“Yeah...”

Blue eyes narrow. He doesn’t say anything else about it. He doesn’t jump to Sora’s defense either.

“You think she’s right, don’t you?” Sora asks. Where did that come from?

Roxas appears to wonder the same thing. “I—I didn’t say—”

“It’s alright,” Sora sighs. “I’m starting to agree with her too. I don’t think… I really know what it means to love someone. Not like that, anyway. Someone who’s not family. Romantically.”

“I get it,” he cuts off Sora’s rambling.

“Especially since… well. I know we’ve been walking in circles since high school. I know that. I noticed it too. I just… didn’t see it as a problem.” A shrug rolls from his shoulders. “But that’s what’s wrong with me. I’m okay with going in circles. Never getting anywhere… It’s easy. Even Riku… called me out on it. How I’m still undeclared. How I still don’t have direction.”

Roxas nods. “So you’ve been thinking about those sort of things, huh?”

“I know you can’t imagine what it’s like. You’ve been writing code since junior high. You’ve always known what you wanted.” The blonde just shrugs. Sora knows he can’t deny it. “But I… really don’t know. I don’t know what to do about anything. About me. About Kairi. About Riku. I’m hopeless!”

His face crunches a little. “I don’t get it. What does Riku have to do with anything?”

“But that’s the most important part!” Sora lurches. Roxas jerks back. “I’m so hopeless that I couldn’t even **see** it! We had to get drunk, so drunk that neither of us could keep our mouths shut, before I knew!”

“Sora,” he grabs him firmly by the shoulders, “ **what** are you talking about?”

“Riku told me! He—” he suddenly notices how loud he’s talking. Even if they’re the only ones here, this isn’t something he should be shouting. It doesn’t feel right. His voice drops low. “All this time. I didn’t know. And Riku. We were so drunk. And he just… spit it out! Roxas. You can’t tell anyone I told you. He loves me. Someone as hopeless as me. I couldn’t see it. He **loves** me, Roxas. Me!”

Roxas is dead silent for a very long time. Sora hears him cover his mouth with his hand, and start laughing softly into it.

“Roxas!”

That only makes him laugh harder. “What? I’m sorry, I just—” he takes a few deep breaths. “I can’t say I’m shocked.”

Sora’s mouth falls open. “So you already knew!?”

“No, no! It’s just one of those things, you know, when you find out something and you’re not surprised. You just think ‘Yeah, that makes sense’.”

Sora buries his face in his hands. Was it really so obvious all along, that even Roxas could see it? How hopeless can he be?

“Sorry,” Roxas shrugs, but he’s still chuckling.

“What do I do?”

“That’s… not an easy question to answer,” he admits.

“But I have to figure it out. I have to do something. Before it’s too late. Before they both give up on me.”

He laughs through his nose. “I don’t think you need to worry about that happening.”

Sora ignores him. “I’ve never seen Riku look like that. The look on his face… He was scared. Actually **scared**.” He still remembers it clearly. It pinches painfully in his chest.

“Scared of rejection,” Roxas huffs.

“But I didn’t reject him. It wasn’t a rejection. I told him that.”

Roxas narrows his eyes again. “And what the heck does **that** mean?”

Sora cranes his head back, gazing blearily at the ceiling. It’s only vaguely spinning. “I have no idea.”

His mouth forms a flat line. “Sora, that makes no sense at all.”

“I know.” He forces a smile. “Can we just pretend it does?”

“That won’t get us anywhere.”

“Well, you know how much I like walking in circles.”

“Sora.”

“I know,” he whines. Roxas only sighs. Why is this so difficult? “I just don’t want anything to change.”

“That’s not how life works,” Roxas mumbles, raking a hand back through his hair. “First, you need to figure out how **you** feel, then go from there. You can’t do anything for either of them if you’re not being true to yourself first.”

Sora watches him from the corner of his eye. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Never said it would be.”

_Gee, thanks, Roxas._ He goes back to watching the patterns on the ceiling swim around in blurry spirals. What the hell is he going to do? His girlfriend, and now his best friend. He could lose them both at once! What kind of sick luck is this? The entire foundation of his life has just crumbled beneath his feet, and he’s too drunk to run to solid ground.

Part of his brain screams _this is all Riku’s fault!_ The other part assures him that the blame is all his own.

He hears Roxas shift in his seat. “So, how **do** you feel about it?” he asks. “Creeped out?”

Sora answers immediately, “No.”

“Annoyed?”

“No.”

“… Disgusted?”

“No!”

Roxas shoots him a look. “Then, what?”

“I...” Sora starts. He wants to say _I don’t know_ , but it doesn’t seem right. What is this cold, twisting feeling in his stomach? “Guilty. Because I didn’t notice it at all.”

His cousin waves his hand. “That’s just who you are,” he says, and a feeling of déjà vu slams into Sora like a wall. “What else?”

Isn’t that all? He feels his face crunch up in confusion.

Roxas rolls his eyes. “You feel guilty over **you**. Forget about all that. What about Riku?”

Sora tries to take himself back to that moment. It’s a feeling of static. “Shocked,” he admits, but Roxas only scoffs, “and… flattered?”

“Oh?”

“I mean—I think—yeah. Flattered, right? Because I’m not worth that. Not from him. He’s… my best friend. One of the greatest guys I know. It’s unbelievable. I don’t deserve that much. Especially since I didn’t even notice it! I just—don’t deserve it at all.”

“Personally, I think you’ve got it backwards,” Roxas huffs. “There’s no way that guy deserves you. As a friend or anything else.”

_Yeah, right_. “If you say so.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re happy.”

Sora blinks at him for a second. “Er—what?”

“You’re happy about it. Shocked and flattered, yeah, but all of that stuff boils down to happy, right? Everyone feels excited over things we don’t deserve.” There’s no response. Roxas watches him with careful eyes. “You’ve been smiling this entire time, you know.”

He instantly covers his mouth with his hand. His lips are pulled taut beneath his touch. “I—I have?”

“Ever since you said you were flattered,” Roxas nods.

His brows knit together. He’s… happy? Is that it? Is it the same? He didn’t reject anything, after all. He only fell into his guilt. He’s been so blind… If Roxas is right, and he’s only upset at himself, then maybe…

He remembers Riku’s earnestness. That hazy gleam in his eyes as he said everything. The transient moment of relief that followed—before fear clouded over his face. It was almost serene. Sora remembers the sudden, careful words, and how they finally reached him and burst within him until he couldn’t move—couldn’t speak. He had his own moment in-between, after the shock faded and before the guilt came crashing down. That’s it. He remembers now. Even though he had no right to, he wanted to laugh and cry and shout at the top of his lungs. He was surprised. Overjoyed.

Sora’s lungs deflate at the thought.

He had no right to feel that way, so it was snuffed out before he could even acknowledge it.

_But what does that mean?_ He has no idea.

“Maybe you should start there,” Roxas suggests.

Sora swallows thickly. His throat is aching. “Yeah… I guess so.”

Roxas slowly raises his arms above his head and stretches. “Now,” he yawns mid-sentence, “I’m going to make some coffee and get back to work. I’ve wasted enough time on you. If I flunk this class I’m coming for your head.”

Sora grins. “That’s fair. And thanks. You’ll do fine. I’m sure of it.”

He waves the compliment away and disappears into the kitchen. Sora hears the water turn on, glasses and ceramic clink together, and smells the familiar scent of Roxas’s favourite salted caramel-blend coffee.

As the blonde stalks back upstairs with a steaming mug in one hand and a full carafe in the other, Sora calls out to him: “Have fun programming!”

Roxas swears beneath his breath.

Sora laughs.

He lays there in the still quiet of the townhouse, on the worn couch with uneven cushions and a single blanket, for who knows how long. Every now and then he’ll hear Roxas typing away from his room upstairs, setting his mug down a little too roughly, the central air system kicking on, or the engine of a random passing vehicle. More noises than home, but still, he’s not exactly a light sleeper. _What gives?_ He’s surprised that he doesn’t have the entire ceiling memorized by now. His vision slowly clears as time wears on. He regains all feeling in his fingers. The haze in his brain fizzles away. His thoughts can no longer swirl aimlessly, so they stab clean through him instead. Without a lens of alcohol, memories become sharper.

He remembers everything that happened in the cramped bathroom of the bar. Every word that passed between them. He gets to the end, and then he’s opening the door, stumbling inside, asking Riku if he’s okay, and it starts all over again.

Sora pulls the blanket over his face. He’s so tired. Why won’t his brain just shut up?

“ _No one is ever good enough because they’re never **you**!”_

Stop.

“ _How can I possibly look for someone else when I still can’t look away from **you**?! Don’t you get it?”_

No more.

“ _What hope could I possibly have? I fell for **you** , remember?_”

Just shut up.

“ _You smell like beer,”_ he tells him with his head against his chest.

Sora’s face burns hot with embarrassment. What the hell was he thinking? Was he thinking at all? That was so weird. Damn it. Alcohol makes people do crazy things. At least, it **allows** them to do crazy things.

He goes through the loop three more times. He presses the blanket onto his face and makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please stop,” he whispers. “Just let me sleep.”

Voices continue to echo. Images keep recycling themselves behind his eyes. The scene repeats itself two more times. Then just the beginning. Then a single sentence. Then it’s nothing but a shaky image. Riku’s expression—his face open in shock, eyes wide and glassy. His mouth drops open, and regret falls out. The slightest shift. It’s nothing but fear. Like he could run at any moment.

_Will he?_

Sora doesn’t know the answer. It terrifies him that he doesn’t know. When he turns around, will Riku still be there? Or will he disappear like he’s ashamed?

_You have no reason to!_ Sora shouts in his head. Wasn’t that clear enough?

He goes through their conversation once more, on purpose this time. He’s not sure how clear it is—how reassuring he was. Okay, fine. He’s not the best at communication, but it’s not like the beer helped at all. Everything is more disjointed than usual…

He’s terrible at this! If Riku ends up running away, it’ll be because Sora didn’t tell him **not** to!

Sora turns over violently and presses his face into the couch. Maybe a lack of air will be enough to finally silence his thoughts. After all, he can’t do anything about it now. It’s already over. Done with. Now all he can do is cast a net and hope for the best. He has to make sure Riku knows. He has to keep him here. And then he has to think. His brain seems to be prioritizing the latter.

Dim, grey light is shining through the curtains. Sunrise, huh? _Great_.

His chest sinks in a sigh. His eyes already hurt. He lies there in silence, thinking of all the things he should’ve said. All the things he still **needs** to say. The script builds inside his head. It’s entirely one-sided. He has no idea what Riku will say, if he’ll say anything at all. It could be too late.

He shakes his head. _No way_.

… Right?

Anxiousness mounts. The sun is fully up now. Shadows burn away and colour returns to the room. He reaches for his phone and checks the time.

7:05 A.M.

He supposes it’s too early to call. He has to make sure.

7:17 A.M.

He goes over his script again.

7: 36 A.M.

He can’t wait. He can’t take it. He has to know.

He calls. There’s no answer.

_Figures_ , he thinks. It is awfully early. Sora admits that he wouldn’t answer at this time day, either. If he were actually asleep, that is.

By the time 8A.M. rolls around, he’s called a total of three times. Still no answer. Sora presses the screen against his forehead. _Come **on**._

He opens a new text message and stares at the empty box. The blinking cursor has a pulse that stabs through his head. What does he even type? How does he start? Fingers clumsily stumble across the keys. _That’s too weird._ Backspace. _Yikes. Too much._ Backspace. _No. I can’t be casual about this! It’s too important!_ Backspace.

Delete.

Cancel.

Close.

Sora groans to the ceiling. He tries calling again. No answer.

He brings the text box up again instead. He types his planned script exactly as he wanted to say it. Word for word. It doesn’t transfer to text very well. It will have to do. He has to do **something**. He checks over the words several times. Good enough. It’s the best he can do. He sends a barrage of text messages, and means every single word.

   
  


(I remember what we talked about last night. I mean, how could I forget?  
Sorry, if you wanted me to. But I can’t. I wont! I’ve been thinking about  
everything. I could barely sleep. I know. Weird right? But I kept  
remembering that scared look on your face and I’ve never ever seen you  
look like that. Ever. So… Don’t worry.)

(I know you’re laughing at that right now but I’m serious. Don’t worry.  
… I’m actually pretty terrified that you’re going to disappear on ME. Like  
you’d ever run away from anything right? But I can’t stop thinking about  
it. So I want to tell you some things)

(You’re my best friend. Don’t ever forget that)

(I’m still thinking about what to do. I need some time)

(It’s still not a rejection)

(There’s nothing that I would do for Kairi that I wouldn’t do for you)

(It’s awful to think so… but I’m happy. Even though it must hurt you so  
much. Telling me how you feel… I was actually happy to hear it)

(Shocked. Really shocked. But happy.)

(So please. Give me time. And don’t go anywhere. Okay?)

   
  


He sends it all. After the last message slips through, he locks the screen and heaves a huge sigh. More waiting. Will Riku read it all? Is it enough for him to understand? Sora wonders how long he’ll have to keep waiting.

Well, he could be waiting forever, depending on Riku’s reaction. Ignoring everything is always an option. Ignoring it all and running away.

He dials the number again. That can’t be true. Riku doesn’t answer. Sora thumbs another message without thinking.

  


(Riku?)  
(Please answer me)

  


He waits ten minutes before calling again. When there’s still no answer, he goes back to text.  
  
  


(Hey!)  
  


It’s a terrible cycle. He has to calm down. He doesn’t know anything yet. Not for sure. He calls again. Nothing.

  


(Don’t run away from me)  
  
  


Several minutes pass. Another call. Another message.

  


(Please, Riku…)  
  
  


The dial tone rings in his ears three times before he realizes how silly this is. He hangs up earlier than necessary. There’s no point. Riku isn’t answering, anyway. Not yet. Or ever. Who knows?

Sora tosses the phone onto the other end of the couch. _This is ridiculous. Calm down._ _Of course he’s not answering. It’s barely 9._ He tells himself over and over. He really lost it, there. He didn’t mean to panic. Honest. But he guesses no one really **means** to panic. It just kind of happens.

He has to hope. He has to **believe**. But it’s hard to be patient when you’re worried. Even harder when you haven’t slept at all.

_You’ll answer, won’t you? You’ll at least do that._

There’s a pinching in his chest. He hopes—wishes with all of his might that Riku will answer. That he won’t run. That everything will be okay. Sora runs trembling fingers through his hair. _I have to trust him_. _I_ _ **do**_ _trust him_ _. But I…_ He pulls in a slow, deep breath. He has to stop. Whatever will be, will be. He shouldn’t send any more messages. It won’t help. He shouldn’t call anymore. That would seem desperate. Right?

But he is desperate.

He just wishes Riku would answer already!

Nothing for it. Nothing at all. He goes back to staring vacantly at the ceiling.

It’s about 9:30A.M. when Roxas finally stumbles down the stairs. Thick shadows lay curled beneath his eyelids.

Sora is sure he looks no better. “Did you finish your project?”

“Hell no,” Roxas groans, rubbing at his reddened eyes. “I’m taking a break. Want some breakfast?”

Sora shrugs, “Sure.” It’s not like he was going to get any sleep anyway. Not when he’s waiting by the phone like this. He follows his cousin into the kitchen.

Roxas makes a fresh batch of coffee and pours a bit of cereal for the two of them. Sora sits at the table and takes a warm mug between both hands. They sit in silence for a few moments. Roxas tells him that his leg is bouncing, and that it’s annoying. Sora didn’t even notice. He stops doing it. Roxas returns to his cereal. Sora carefully sips on the hot coffee, the only flavour he’ll drink without cream or sugar. It’s not like Roxas brews it very strong, anyway.

“You’re doing it again,” Roxas mutters after a while longer.

Sora immediately halts his leg. “Sorry.”

He sighs towards the table and finishes his cereal. “I’m going to take a nap. You can entertain yourself for a while, right?” Sora nods. He guesses he can. “I’ve got the new Final Fantasy in there, if you want to try it. Not like I’ve had any time to play it,” Roxas grumbles.

“Sure thing,” he says. He could use a distraction.

Roxas takes his leave and shuts himself back in his room. Hopefully **one** of them will be able to get some sleep. Sora is sure it won’t be him. He runs a hand down his face, staring down into his empty coffee mug. The empty bowl of cereal sits in front of him as well. He leaves them both on the table and retreats to his temporary refuge on the sofa. He’ll worry about the dishes later. He’s too busy worrying about other things right now.

He plops down onto the couch and checks his phone again. Still no response. It’s almost 11A.M..

His eyes are stinging. He decides that insomnia doesn’t suit him at all.

He boots up the game console, but can’t find the energy in himself to start a new game. So he wastes time staring at the home screen.

Still no response.

Maybe he should just watch dumb videos on the internet.

Did he do something wrong? Maybe it’s too late.

Or maybe cartoons. Yeah, that sounds nice.

But how can that be? It hasn’t even been a full day! It’s only been twelve hours!

He drops his head into his hands, mind effectively fractured in two. There’s a cold fear gripping his heart. _What’s going to happen now?_ He just wants to go to sleep.

There’s a buzz from beside him and he almost leaps off of the couch. His phone. His heart is hammering in his chest. What is it? Who? Shaking hands snatch up the device.

A message. No, two! From Riku.

He can’t breathe. He opens them immediately.

[Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere]  
[Promise]

Sora reads the words at least ten times. Then he lowers his head, screen held before him like a torch, and cries silently into his knees.

  


(Thank you)

 

…

…

 

(Thank you)

 

He’s not sure why, but something about those words seems awfully… heavy. He makes a mental note to check up on Sora later. Once things aren’t so fresh. When they’ve both calmed down.

Not to mention: when he’s a little more alone.

Riku drops the phone back onto the bed.

A twitch. A swear muttered into his shirt. Vanitas finally stirs and lifts his head with bleary yellow eyes.

Riku can’t stop himself from smirking at the hateful look on his face. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he hisses. Understandable. He rolls off the bed with a groan and trudges into the bathroom. The shower kicks on a minute later.

Riku sighs and runs a hand through messy hair. As he crawls out of bed he finally notices that he’s wearing the same clothes from last night. Definitely a good start to the day. Although, he’d be lying if he said he was shocked. He decides to change his shirt at least, before heading into the kitchen and brewing some coffee. He places the dirty glasses in the sink and returns the almost-empty bottle of bourbon to its cabinet. There. All traces of earlier mistakes gone. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to **look** at bourbon for a while. Even if he doesn’t have the telltale headache of a hangover, his aching body does the job of reminding him of his transgressions.

It feels like years before the coffee is done. He’s pouring himself a cup just as Vanitas emerges from the bedroom with the same torn jeans, dampened hair, and one of Riku’s t-shirts attempting to swallow him whole. It’s a concert tee from the night they met, actually. When Riku saw him from across the pit and his mouth dropped open. When Vanitas met his gaze and grinned at him like a predator. Riku clearly remembers thinking, ‘ _That’s not Sora,’_ before his memories deteriorate, and the two of them fell into their shallow relationship of cyclical usage. Riku wonders if Vanitas grabbed that particular shirt on purpose.

Regardless, he still has that hateful look on his face as he enters the kitchen. Riku laughs through his nose. “How do you feel now?”

“Still like shit,” he says with much less malice than before, “but now I smell like strawberries.”

Riku shrugs.”It was on sale.”

Vanitas scoffs and pours himself some coffee.

They sit at the table in silence for a while, waiting for the hot coffee to hit their systems and make them feel alive again. At least, that’s how Riku likes to rationalize it. Vanitas probably just likes the quiet. Or maybe he simply doesn’t have anything to say. Who knows?

Riku takes a peek at his phone. No more messages. That’s kind of odd, considering how anxious Sora sounded earlier. And then he only responds with two words? Yeah, he’ll definitely have to check up on him later.

“Expecting something?” Vanitas suddenly asks.

Riku meets his eyes like he’s been caught. “No, not really,” he lies, and puts the phone down. “Just wondering about Sora.”

“That friend of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“The one you drunkenly confessed your love for?”

He winces at the reminder. “Yeah. That one.”

Vanitas snickers into his coffee—black, the same way Riku drinks his. “That bad, huh?”

He glances back to the empty phone screen without thinking. “Maybe not.”

“Is that right?” he shrugs. “I wonder about that. You never really said what happened.”

“Because you don’t care,” Riku counters.

“Both are true.”

He runs another hand through his hair. “It’s… embarrassing.” Vanitas’s expression is flat. “Come on. Of course it is. I got so drunk I couldn’t control myself and confessed to my best friend—who was also very, **very** drunk—and now he’s so worried that I’m going to run away from him that he calls me nine times before noon.”

Vanitas snorts, “That’s intense. Are you going to run away?”

Riku shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I thought about it—”

“Which is why you called me.”

“—but I’m not going to run,” he finishes, completely ignoring Vanitas and the fact that he’s entirely correct. “He’s got enough to worry about without me tripping him up.” He replays several moments of the night through his head, and a sigh drops from his lungs. “Last night was a real mess.”

“I’d say so.”

Then he remembers something else, and a dark look settles over his face. “And then when I walked him home, his cousin—what is his name—Roxas, slammed the door in my face. For no reason at all. Honestly, it pissed me off.”

That earns him a curious glance from Vanitas. “Roxas…” he mumbles, “that sounds familiar, actually.”

“Really?”

He takes a thoughtful sip of coffee. It takes a few seconds for realization to dawn on his face. “Wait. Roxas. Blonde kid? Short as hell? Hateful look in his eyes?”

“Sounds right,” Riku nods.

Vanitas snaps his fingers. “That bastard! I know him. I hate that little shit. I got kicked out of a bar because of him!”

He can’t stop the laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Why would I joke about that?” he spits. “It was after a show, and I was working on nabbing this tall redhead. But Blondie just wasn’t fucking having it. He kept getting in my way. I still don’t know what that guy’s deal was.”

Riku narrows his eyes, only slightly suspicious. “Did you ever think that he and the redhead came in **together**?”

Vanitas just blinks. “And?”

He brings a hand to his head. “Never mind. Go on.”

“What? You wanna know the whole story?”

“Consider me curious.”

Vanitas huffs and haves another sip of coffee. “I guess I’ll humour you. So anyway, Blondie was being a nuisance, and shit escalated. He took a swing at me—I kicked him in the gut—you know. Standard fare.” Riku can’t say anything to that. He can’t say he’s surprised, either. “Eventually, this little fucker went nuts and grabbed **two** beer bottles to use as weapons. He’s dual-wielding these bottles, so I did the only logical thing: I grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at him.”

At this point, Riku has his face buried in his hands. “You hit him with a **chair**?”

“I didn’t,” Vanitas corrects. “I threw it, and he **ducked**. It went right over him, the short little shit, and hit maybe four or five people behind him, who thankfully ignored me and started fighting among themselves. So Blondie is still coming for me, but before he even gets near me he’s fucking tackled by the redhead.” A smirk passes over his face as he remembers it. “Unfortunately, the bartender saw everything, so we were all kicked out and banned from the bar. Which fucking sucks. I kinda liked that place,” he grumbles. “But I would like to point out that Blondie left with a black eye **and** I had my tongue down the redhead’s throat before the night was over.”

Riku stares at him for a very long time. “Vanitas, that was the most inspirational, bullshit story I’ve ever heard in my life. Please write a memoir one day.”

“Well, I’m glad my life is such a fucking **joke** to you, asshole,” Vanitas snaps. Riku only bursts out laughing. “Fuck you. I liked that bar. If I ever see Blondie again I’m gonna give him two black eyes.”

“Be my guest,” he gasps. “I’d love to see it.”

His angry look softens as he refills his mug with fresh coffee. “Hm. I think it was a punk show. I’ll have to keep watch for him.”

“So you’ll go to every punk show in the city until you track him down?”

Vanitas just smirks. “If I have to.”

_That sounds incredibly expensive_ , Riku thinks with another shake of his head. How could anyone ever—? Wait a second. “That reminds me, Vanitas… what do you **do**?”

“Eh?”

“I just realized that I don’t know. What do you do to live? What kind of job do you have? That sort of thing.”

Vanitas practically sneers. “How mundane.”

Maybe it is. “I thought it’d be nice to know. Aren’t friends supposed to?” Vanitas only gives him a look. “After all the time we’ve spent together, and the things we’ve done, I still don’t know how you manage to function as a normal member of society.”

“Please,” he scoffs, “we’ve done things that would make your mother weep.”

“And we still don’t know anything about each other.”

“It was never supposed to be that personal.”

“And now it is,” Riku pushes. It’s odd. Vanitas isn’t usually so defensive.

He stares down into his coffee for a moment. After a while, Riku wonders if this is all a lost cause. But eventually, a thin smile peels back those lips. “Take a guess.”

A tease to the end, indeed. Riku doesn’t know if it’s amusing or tiresome. He looks up at the ceiling, pretending that he wasn’t in the middle of rolling his eyes. “Well… I don’t think you’re a student, so—”

“Wrong,” Vanitas grins.

The words get stuck in his throat. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Studying what?”

Vanitas takes a long sip of coffee, almost as if he doesn’t want to answer. “Art.”

Vague, but it’s a response. It takes Riku a second to find his voice again. “Really?” he asks, trying his best to not sound surprised. “So you… create things, huh?”

“I do,” is all he says.

Riku hums in thought. It’s been a while since he and Vanitas have had such a strained conversation. This won’t do. “Can a sociopath be artistic?” Vanitas kicks him under the table. Riku laughs into his coffee mug. “Sorry.”

Vanitas doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to tell if he’s smirking or scowling. Maybe a mix of both.

“Is that all?” he adds. “You go to a lot of concerts and shows to be ‘just-a-student’.”

“Never said I was,” he huffs.

“Oh?”

“I go to most of those shows for free, anyway.”

He can’t say he’s surprised. “So you sneak in?”

“Not anymore,” he laughs. It’s short-lived. “Actually, I… work in AV. For a production company. So, lights and sound. I’m usually on lights these days.”

He gives Vanitas a hard stare, suppressing a grin with everything he has. “That’s awfully ironic. For you.”

“The irony is not lost upon me,” Vanitas shows his teeth, and Riku can feel himself grinning as well. A halfhearted laugh is just enough. “So, what about you?” Vanitas asks with poorly-veiled relief at the subject change. Riku can’t help but wonder why.

He shrugs in some non-committal way. “I’m still a student.” Vanitas doesn’t appear impressed or satisfied with that answer. Honestly, he probably knew that already. “Mechanical Engineering.”

Vanitas whistles. “Damn. That’s actually interesting.”

He didn’t expect a response like that. “As for a job… I tutor kids in maths in my spare time.” Vanitas makes a sound like a laugh. Riku immediately switches to the defensive. “I was dragged into it by this guy I know—Axel.” _Wait a minute_. Why did it take so long for him to make the connection? “Who happens to be a tall redhead.” They both stop and look at each other with widening eyes. “Maybe that’s why Roxas hates me.”

“Whoa. Hold up,” Vanitas sets his mug down on the table, a terrible smile splitting his face. “You actually slept with the redhead?”

“Not at all,” Riku mutters. Vanitas looks disappointed. “It was a house party. Axel tried to impress a girl—I can’t remember anything about her at all—but he ended up lighting her dress on fire because he’s an idiot.” Vanitas bursts with laughter. “Then he downed seven shots of Fireball… because he’s an idiot.” A grimace pulls at his face. “Axel gets handsy when he drinks, as I’m sure you know. That’s one of the reasons we’re still acquaintances. Not friends.”

Vanitas just looks at him for a while, before finally clicking his tongue. “Sounds like Blondie’s got a lot of issues.”

Riku can’t stop the laugh. “Sounds like it.”

“He needs to man up and deal with it already,” he grumbles. Then a wicked grin slowly comes over his face. “Maybe we should get him drunk and see what comes out of his mouth?”

It’s Riku’s turn to kick him under the table. Vanitas just laughs. Riku lays his head down and sighs. “I wouldn’t even wish this upon Roxas, you know.”

“You’re as gloomy as ever,” he says in a voice that’s clearly enjoying this. The empty mug taps the table impatiently for a minute. Riku hears the click of his phone locking. “Well. I’ll leave you to it.” He carefully gets to his feet and stretches with audibly popping joints.

Riku lifts his head. “Sure.”

“You’ll get this back eventually,” he gestures to the t-shirt he’s currently wearing.

“I hope so. I like that band.”

A strange smirk pulls at his lips, and he shrugs. Something about it tells Riku that he **did** pick that shirt on purpose. Cheeky.

“This has… actually been fun,” Riku admits. Vanitas’s expression turns blank. “We should hang out again sometime. As friends, you know.”

The moment floats there for a while. Vanitas says nothing. He merely laughs beneath his breath. Maybe it’s because he can’t think of anything to say. Maybe he thinks it’s ridiculous. Then his hand comes up mindlessly, and he thumbs his nose. It’s awkward—almost bashful. It seems so out-of-character. But it fits. Somehow… _Wait_. Riku is floored. **That** is not a face Vanitas has ever made. It’s an expression that belongs to Sora.

And as if he could read his mind, Vanitas suddenly scowls. “What’s that stupid look for?”

That’s more like it. He’s strangely relieved. “Nothing,” he smiles. “I was just thinking, I’ve never seen you so flustered before.”

Golden eyes narrow into slits. “Fuck you. I’m keeping the shirt.” Then he storms off across the apartment.

“Vanitas!” Riku laughs.

“Fuck you!” he yells from the door before slamming it shut.

Riku plucks his phone off the table, completely intent on finding Vanitas’s number and prodding him further, but the first thing he sees when he unlocks the screen is Sora’s message. Two bare, heavy words. ‘Thank you.’

His face drops into a frown. He’ll have to call Vanitas an asshole later. Some things are more important. In fact, he’s suddenly lost all desire to tease Vanitas via text. He reads those two words a few more times. He needs to check on Sora first.

So he calls. It doesn’t ring long.

“Riku?” Sora’s voice almost slurs on the other end of the line. Like he’s still waking up.

Riku glances at the clock. It’s past one in the afternoon. “Were you asleep?”

“Kinda,” he admits with a little laugh. “I… didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll let you—”

“It’s fine,” he says in haste.

Riku spins his empty mug on the table. Another one still sits by the vacant chair across from him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

There’s nothing but dead air for several seconds.

Sora yawns.

Riku’s hand tightens around the mug. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says. “Your messages this morning were… well…” 

“Yeah… I know. I was freaking out. I guess the lack of sleep really got to me,” he chuckles again. Even through the phone, it’s so fragile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He shuts his eyes.

“But I’m okay now.”

“Really?”

“You promised, right?” That voice. He’s smiling. Riku knows it.

“Yeah.”

“As long as you don’t run away, I’m alright. And I can calm down and think about what to do from here.” He yawns again. “Carefully… think…”

“More like dream,” Riku smirks.

Sora laughs weakly into the phone. “Right. Guilty,” he groans. “I’m tired.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Mhm. You got it.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“’Kay,” he says like a sigh. “Oh, and Riku?”

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks.”

He really doesn’t know what to say to that. It seems that Sora’s even more incoherent when he’s sleepy than when he’s drunk. “Of course,” Riku decides. Is that a proper answer? 

Sora accepts it, so maybe it is.

Maybe it’s alright.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: This fic's previously-mentioned alternate ending has been updated to become the True Ending. This should be fun.
> 
> And after writing this, I found myself with a great need to see fanart of Vanitas sitting on a ladder with a wrench in his teeth, hanging a stage light. Theatre Tech aesthetic, you know. Right? Is it just me? Probably so. 
> 
> /cough/ A-anyway! I don't have much to say about this one... Can we talk about Riku and Vanitas having girltalk over coffee and hardcore judging Roxas? The level of sass here is palpable. And yes, Roxas is a programmer. I went there.
> 
> I also cut out a lot of chattering in my Notes that no one wants to hear... I could talk about this AU forever. I need to be stopped.


	3. Parachute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three sheets to the wind. In a different way.

 

**3**

  
  
  
  
“It’s okay. Really. Take all the time you need. You know I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.” Kairi smiles sweetly at him. It should be breathtaking.   
  
The night sky frames her brightness. She slides in front of him and places a kiss against his cheek. Her eyes are so sad. He wishes he could do more for her.   
  
He would thank her, but it seems too cruel. He decides to merely nod his head, returning her smile the best he can.

Her breath comes out shaky. “Goodnight, Sora.”   
  
“’Night, Kairi.” He can barely get the words out by the time she turns around. Her back is straight, but Sora can see how stiff and unnatural it is.  
  
Kairi retreats into her house. She won’t cry in front of him.  
  
Sora slips into the shadows of the streets. He won’t mope in front of her, either.  
  
He wanders down the nighttime roads, not wanting to go home yet, and not wanting to sit still either. His legs carry him up a large hill, the biggest one in the neighborhood. He can see most of the island from up here. Streetlights glitter like stars, sparse against the void of night. Sora stands as a statue at the top of the hill, and stares out into the empty street. The streetlamps don’t create enough light to drown the shadows crowding the gutters and lanes. Darkened windows reflect the ethereal glow of the half-moon. The wind has shifted now, and drifts towards the distant ocean. He can barely hear the sound of the waves from here. It’s so empty.

A sigh drops from his chest. The night swallows it whole.

Sora stretches his arms and takes a deep breath of the breezy, salty air. It’s familiar, but barren. There’s no one around to enjoy the solitude with him. It’s kind of lonesome.

He shakes his head. The islands don’t know loneliness.  
  
Then, why are they suddenly so desolate? It’s more than just the late hour. The darkness creeping at the edges of the streets seems so menacing. The familiarity of the empty street is… different, somehow. The shadows aren’t standing with him anymore. He’s suddenly apart from them—seeing them from the outside. The comfortable shoals of the tidewater are giving way to open sea. And he’s by himself.   
  
That’s it, isn’t it? Shadows grow taller when you’re alone. Kairi has been standing by his side for years. It’s safe. Comfortable. It’s what’s expected of him. He couldn’t disappoint that expectation, and so he set up camp somewhere he didn’t actually fit for convenience’s sake.  
  
At least, he thinks so. He hopes he’s right. Otherwise, he’s just destroyed everything for a fear of commitment. He doesn’t want to think of himself that way. Indecisive, maybe. But a fear of commitment? No way.

Still, his place here is suddenly called into question. This place he’s called home—dreamed of sailing away from—yet never quite ready to leave.   
  
Kairi is rooted here like a lighthouse. She’ll always guide him home, but she can’t do anything for him if he does nothing but stand on the shore.   
  
And then there’s Riku, so far out to sea that he’s nothing but a speck bobbing in the distance. He has no idea where he’s going, when he’ll get there—if he’ll ever get there—but he doesn’t care. The random bursts of light from the beacons of home are enough to shine through the darkness of the unknown.   
  
Sora is sure that if he waits along the shore any longer, Riku will disappear over the horizon.  
  
But he also knows that Riku is still facing backwards, waiting for him to catch up.   
  
It’s about time he did something about that.   
  
… Right?  
  
No, he already decided. This is the only path left. He **has** to do it! Uncertain as it may be, he’ll do it!  
  
His hands curl into fists at his sides. The empty street doesn’t encourage him at all. The dark horizon wraps around his throat. He focuses on the struggling streetlights instead, and meanders back down the hill. His footsteps snap in the silence, echoing off houses and fences. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. It’s late. Past 1 A.M.. But that’s fine. He already decided. He doesn’t have anywhere to be.   
  
His fingers find Riku’s contact out of habit. Sora made sure he was visiting home this weekend. He didn’t know what to expect from any of this, and could’ve needed him. For something. Anything.  
  
Maybe he still does. The message he types is simple and unremarkable:

 

(Are you home?)

  
  
Sora wonders if he’ll get a response at this hour. He doesn’t wonder very long.  
  


[Yeah. What’s up?]  


 

(I’m coming over)

  


[Are you okay?]  
[Is something wrong?]

  


(Nothing’s wrong)

  


[You didn’t answer the other question]  


 

Sora smiles bitterly at the screen. He can’t hide anything from Riku. Not even when he wants to.

Riku reads his silence in a moment.  


 

[Okay. I’ll be here]  


 

He lets his feet guide him, and eventually he halts before the familiar two-storey at the end of the street. The door is already unlocked. Sora lets himself in.

This house hasn’t changed at all. The pictures. The furniture. The paint on the banister that’s worn down from all the times he and Riku have swung around the stair landing on their way out the door. Sora can’t imagine it any other way. It even smells the same, like coconut and nutmeg, just like when they were kids. Riku still denies that his parents’ house smells like this, but it works both ways. Sora will still deny that his own house smells of “Paopu and campfire smoke,” as Riku so readily put it. Sora still isn’t sure if it’s a compliment.

He clicks the latch on the door, testing it twice to make sure it’s locked. There’s a strange sound coming from down the hall, almost like heavy traffic. He recognizes it as the rumble of an electric kettle. At this hour?

And then Riku appears in the doorway. “Hey,” is all he says, but his eyes are searching Sora all over; looking for a tell. A clue.

Sora puts on his most unassuming smile. “Were you still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, and tosses his head towards the kitchen. “Now I’m making cocoa.”

“At 2AM?”

“Yep.”

“With water?”

He shrugs. “I’m feeling lazy.”

Sora laughs below his breath. “Is there enough lazy cocoa for me too?”

Riku puts on that grin. That thin, half-there, half-proud grin that sprouts over his face like vines. Like ivy winding around ankles and wrists and ribs. “Always,” he says.

Sora fleetingly wonders how often Riku wears that grin; how many people get to see it. Maybe it’s just him. “Great.”

He folds his arms over his chest, expression not fading. “So, did something happen?”

“Huh?”

Riku laughs through his nose. “When you show up at my house at two in the morning with **that** look on your face, what else am I supposed to think?”

Sora doesn’t know how to respond to that. How long has he been wringing his hands together? He shoves them in his jacket pockets. “I just...” he starts, hesitating, thinking, before sighing in defeat. What’s the point? “I can’t hide anything from you, huh?”

It’s that grin again. “Nope. I have a lot of practice keeping an eye on you.”

“You know, that should probably bother me… but it doesn’t,” he chuckles. “Besides, I know you have your reasons.”

Riku’s face suddenly falters, and Sora inwardly kicks himself. _Damn it_. He’s screwed up already. It hasn’t been ten minutes and he’s already referenced what they’ve left unspoken for a week now. What they’ve been ignoring. This silence is so uncomfortable.

But Sora has to ask himself: what did he expect? The mutually ignored events are what lead him here tonight in the first place. Why he aimlessly wandered the streets for an hour before deciding he really didn’t want to be alone. Why he finally sat down and thought hard about his life and his choices, and eventually worked up the courage to make a serious change. Or two.

Maybe it’s not such a bad mention after all.

Riku clears his throat, shifting uneasily on his feet. “Yeah,” he replies in a voice that’s mostly breath, “I guess I do.”

Sora comes a few steps closer. “I’ll be honest, I… didn’t want to spend tonight alone. I guess I’m nervous.”

“For what?”

“I… decided something,” he admits. “Two somethings, really...” Riku doesn’t say anything. Is he even breathing? Sora’s guts clench into knots. Easy one first. “I’ve decided to… transfer to a liberal arts university. To study archaeology.” He’s deflated already. And now that he’s saying it out-loud, he’s worried that it sounds too silly. Too far from his reach. What made him think that he’d be good at such a thing? It feels childish. Unrealistic.

Then he sees Riku smiling, and his anxiety starts to wither. “It suits you.”

“You think so?” he stammers.

“Yeah. You’ll be great.”

Sora just laughs softly in the quiet. The knots of his insides try to untangle themselves.

“You know… there’s a liberal arts uni across town from mine.”

He can’t stop the smile. “I’ve already applied.”

Riku grins at him again. “Good.”

“That’s why I’m nervous.”

“It’ll be fine,” he assures again, and Sora almost believes him. Then his grin fades, and something else takes over. “So… what’s the other thing? Your second decision?”

_Oh_ . That’s why he  made that face . He’s not sure if he wants to know.   
  
Sora’s eyes drop to the floor. “That is… Well… I think I figured out some things,” he mumbles. Riku doesn’t interrupt him. “ I thought about it for a long time.  About me n Kairi. About the way  she always took the lead in our relationship.  A nd  I realized… I was just along for the ride.  I never took it as seriously as she did.  So o f course s he noticed how  uninvested I was. How I always let her do whatever she wanted,  and  never  tried to take things farther… I never initiated anything.” A bitter laugh fights it way out of his throat. “I didn’t even initiate our relationship, you know.  **She** asked  **me** . I took the safe way out, again, and went along with it. I went along with everything. I’m not saying that I don’t like her,  or even love her in some way … but honestly, I was just drifting behind her. She deserves better than that. I just feel bad for wasting both our time.”

Riku waits for him to keep going. Waits for a conclusion that Sora isn’t ready to say. “So you’re…?”

He shakes his head. “We’re not together anymore.”

Riku only stares at him. Sora has no idea what he could be thinking. It was a lot to take in. After a long moment of silence, that guarded expression drops into a frown. “I’m sorry."

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he presses. “I was questioning things way before you… told me everything. And so was she. Don’t you remember?”

He nods, but doesn’t fix his frown.

“I can’t say that you didn’t impact my decision at all… but you only helped me realize how clueless I really am. Honest. So don’t blame yourself.” He pulls in a deep breath. “It was my decision. Mine alone. And now I’m…” he suddenly chokes on the words, “like a broken sail.”

Riku tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m free to the wind. Without a tether. Without… anything holding me in place. It’s nerve-wracking.”

That gaze is concerned, but he’s still thinking about what to say.

Sora knows such feelings of unease are foreign to him. Just like Roxas, Riku has always known what he wanted, and he chases it with everything he has. He never liked to settle down into the slow, simple current of their hometown. He wanted so much more. Places with riptides, where the ground is always shifting. Sora’s known this since they were kids, and they would lie in the dark in Sora’s bedroom, gaze up at the little plastic stars on the ceiling and pretend they were somewhere far away.

Somewhere along the line, Sora grew too comfortable. His excitement diminished, and anxiousness sprouted in between. What happened? He once said he’d follow Riku anywhere; but now he’s so far ahead, how can Sora ever hope to catch up?

He’s finally trying. That’s a start, right?

“I guess it is,” Riku finally says. “But you know you can always rely on me. I’m not going to abandon you.” He pauses awkwardly, not looking at him. “Not unless you want me to.”

“Shut up, why would I want that?” Sora laughs, and Riku shrugs the tension from his shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll probably be needing your help soon.”

He nods. “Right.”

“What would I do without you?”

There’s no hesitation. “Walk in circles?”

Sora lightly punches his arm.”C’mon.” Riku shrugs again, that half-grin finally returning. Sora watches his face slowly brighten and look back at him with some sort of incredulous adoration.

Riku doesn’t break that stare. “Are you okay?”  
  
Sora isn’t surprised, and can’t stifle his smile. “Yeah. I will be.”  
  
“I know you will.”   
  
The silence is brief. Sora softly scuffs his shoe on the floor. “So, whatever happened to lazy cocoa?”  
  
Riku swears and marches back down the hall. “The water is probably cold by now.”  
  
Sora trails close behind, snickering under his breath. It most definitely is. But even if they have to reheat the water, it’ll taste fine in the end. No, more than fine. Having late-night cocoa with Riku is one of Sora’s favourite things.  
  
Sora makes sure to tell him that.  
  
  
  


…

…  
  
  
  
  
  
_Wait_.  
  
Vanitas shoves him against the kitchen counter. Hot breath lashes at his face. _Hang on_. Teeth glide along the curve of his neck. His ears are ringing so loudly, he can’t hear anything else. _What are you—_ This isn’t what he had in mind. Vanitas presses closer, and warmth squirms viciously in Riku’s stomach.  
  
He didn’t ask for this. He was just reaching into the fridge, and then Vanitas suddenly—  
  
They hadn’t spoken in two weeks. Riku only wanted to fix a boring Friday night. Vanitas was raving about his plans being ruined by some “idiot guitarist” that got into a fistfight with the club's house manager. Text messages were exchanged. It was an entirely innocent proposition.  
  
It was **supposed** to be, anyway.  
  
Vanitas’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt.  
  
“We’ll find something to do,” Riku had said. “Movies, video games, whatever you want.” He didn’t mean **this**. Not this time. Not… ever again. 

Vanitas tugs hard. Pulls him in.

_Wait_.  
  
But their lips never meet. Riku comes crawling out of his dizziness to find Vanitas staring him down. He uses this fleeting moment of clarity to lay a hand on Vanitas’s chest and gently push him away.

But Vanitas doesn’t budge. That gaze is so sharp, it could cut him to shreds. It sees through everything. “What are you trying to do?”  
  
Riku falters. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Last time was different. I get it. There were… special circumstances.” Then he frowns, yellow eyes narrowing dangerously. “So what are you doing now?”

_That’s my line._ “I’m not **doing** anything.”

Vanitas remains unimpressed. He doesn’t back off either. He keeps Riku pinned against the counter with hands on either side.  
  
“I’m not after anything,” he mumbles. “I don’t **want** anything from you.”  
  
Vanitas doesn’t move—doesn’t even twitch.  
  
“Don’t look so suspicious. It’s the truth. We’re supposed to be friends.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Yes,” Riku insists. “Don’t you remember?” 

“I do.”  
  
“Then I don’t understand why you won’t believe me.”

It takes a moment for Vanitas to react. He slowly takes a step backwards as a scowl darkens his face. “Why are you so hell-bent on us being friends, anyway?”   
  
Is that a deflection? “Because if we’re not friends by now, then everything we’ve been through will just… be a waste of time,” he ends on a mumble. Vanitas stares at him with some scrutinizing, unreadable look in his eyes. “I don’t want to throw all of that away like it didn’t mean anything.”

“And what did it mean?” He speaks with no inflection.

_Something_ ,  Riku thinks. But is that a suitable answer?  Will Vanitas accept something so simple ?  It’s the only answer he has.  “I don’t know,” he sighs, “but it wasn’t  **nothing** . Isn’t that enough?” 

Vanitas suddenly sneers. “You’re just afraid of losing your back-up plan.”

“That’s not it.” His voice is surprisingly calm. “And since when do you care about things like that?” Vanitas’s grin shuts off like a light. “I’ve never seen you care about anything. So it means something to you too, right?”

“Don’t be stupid—”

“We’re **both** stupid!” Riku exclaims. “We tried to keep it impersonal. And yeah, that really worked out.”   
  
Vanitas glares at some indistinct speck on the ground. “I don’t think we were **trying** to do anything,” he mutters. “It all just… happened.”  
  
“Yeah. You’re right,” he nods. That’s certainly a good way to put it. “Because honestly, I think it was always personal for me.” He feels his throat attempting to crush the words, but he has to say them. Vanitas deserves to know, even if he doesn’t want to. Even if he doesn’t care at all. “You know, I actually… wanted to use you to forget about my feelings for Sora. Permanently.” Vanitas just looks at him, his eyes vaguely widening. “I wanted to give you all of it. That’s pretty pathetic, right? But in the end, I couldn’t do it. Sora is like a black hole for me. I can’t get away from him, no matter how hard I try.”

Vanitas does nothing but watch him for such a long time. “I never asked for any of that.”

“I know. I foisted it on you. Sorry.”

He huffs, but it’s not bitter. In fact, he seems rather amused by it.  
  
Maybe he’s just laughing at the word “foist.” Riku shakes his head a bit. Who even says that in regular conversation?

It’s not important at all. Vanitas’s amusement vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“I’m not asking you to care about me,” Riku sighs. “I’m asking you to… value our time together. Because I don’t think it’s a waste. It wasn’t empty. I think it’ll be a shame if we give up after making it this far.” Vanitas stares blankly at him. There’s not even a flicker across his face. “We can still talk and laugh despite everything. After all the bullshit… it should be awkward. But it’s not. Don’t you think that’s rare? I actually **enjoy** talking to you!”

Silence. But it looks like… no, Riku is sure of it, Vanitas wants to say something. He’s just having trouble finding the words. His expression is stormy, lips twitching and hesitating.  
  
Riku tries to smile. “And you keep answering my messages, so I can only assume that you enjoy my company too. Right?”  
  
Something ripples through his face, and he immediately bites down on his lip. Riku doesn’t quite catch that expression. Vanitas averts his eyes, probably without thinking. “Who knows?”

What kind of response is that? Riku laughs into his hand. “Vanitas, why is it harder to get into your heart than into your pants?”

He almost chokes. “They’re not the same thing. You can’t pretend they are.” Then he hides his hands in his pockets, voice dropping low. “Neither of us can.”

Riku can’t deny that. _But it doesn’t matter._ “Still.”  
  
Vanitas studies him for a while. Golden eyes search him all over. He looks poised to attack, or maybe run, like a suspicious cat. “So, you’re serious? You want to keep this up?”  
  
“Does it really bother you that I don’t have an ulterior motive?”  
  
He shrugs. “Most people do.”  
  
That’s such a sad answer. Riku almost doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I need a reason.”  
  
His laugh is nothing but breath. “You’re really something else.” Is that a smile, or a grimace? It’s impossible to tell. “It was just a casual fuck.”

He can’t stop the smirk. “Or two.”

“Or three,” Vanitas counters with a grin of his own. “Or more.”  
  
“Do you still think it meant nothing?”  
  
He scoffs, “Fuck if I know.”

_There_ _it is_ _._ The proof. Vanitas’s uncertainty. They never intentionally made it personal—hell, details on their personal lives were all but deliberately hidden—but despite that, they **both** fell into something… strange. Too casual to be lovers, and too far removed to be friends. Riku doesn’t want that to be how the story ends, and he’s fairly certain Vanitas doesn’t want that either. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it. Riku can only guess why the dark-haired boy is so defensive over a simple personal relationship. It’s a little concerning. Not that Riku cares enough to force himself into Vanitas’s problems just yet. Not that Vanitas would ever let him, anyway.  
  
Does it really matter? Even if he wasn’t so defensive, it’s doubtful that their story could’ve lead anywhere but here.  
  
Vanitas crosses his arms over his chest. He looks at Riku thoughtfully. “So, what you’re really saying is, you’ve decided to actively pursue Sora.”  
  
He stops breathing. “Huh?”  
  
“I guess you can’t do that if we’re still screwing around,” he shrugs. “You must think you have a pretty good chance. Just don’t half-ass it.”  
  
He really can’t read Vanitas at all. “What do you mean?”  
  
Vanitas scowls. “Exactly what I said, idiot. **Do something**. Because if this ends up being all for nothing, I’ll kill both of you.”  
  
_Does… that mean ‘good luck’?_ No, that’s too nice for Vanitas. He’s just holding Riku to his decision. He’s saying: ‘If I’m going to be demoted, I might as well get some entertainment out of it.’ So that means… Vanitas isn’t going to let him sit around and do nothing. He’s going to have to act. To **try**. Is he really prepared for that?  
  
Vanitas stares him down. He expects confirmation. An answer.  
  
For a chance. For Sora. He’ll have to be prepared.   
  
So Riku nods. If that’s what it takes.   
  
The gears in Vanitas’s head turn silently. He’s still scowling, still seems unsure about something. Is he unconvinced? Or does he think their relationships are mutually exclusive?  
  
Riku tries again. “Come on, don’t make that face. You make it sound like I’m giving up on you.”  
  
“It was never that personal.”  
  
“And maybe I am, in a way,” he continues. “Because I couldn’t give you everything… But that doesn’t mean I didn’t give you **something**.”   
  
“I didn’t want to give you anything,” Vanitas mumbles.

“But you did.” It’s not quite a question. Vanitas doesn’t respond, and that’s all the answer Riku needs. He forces a laugh to buffer the silence. “Sounds like we’re both idiots.”  
  
“Complete fucking idiots.”  
  
They agree on that, at least. “So, what do you say? Friends?”  
  
Vanitas releases a long sigh, finally relenting, and rakes a hand back through his hair. “Fine. We’ll see.”

Riku finds himself smiling. He never expected to struggle so hard over making a friend. It’s ridiculous. “The last time we were together, I remember telling you that I wouldn’t abandon you, and I meant it.”  
  
“Yeah, you slurred something like that,” Vanitas shrugs, “after drinking yourself into oblivion.”  
  
_Right_ _._ “So it was obviously true. You just have to let me know if you ever need anything.” Vanitas makes a face. “Even if it’s just someone to drink with.”

He laughs through his nose. “I’ll be sure to do that.” How halfhearted. But it’s something.   
  
“I look forward to it.”  
  
Vanitas only rolls his eyes.  
  
“Think of it this way,” he offers, “now you can laugh at my misery all you want. I don’t really mind.”

“I was planning on doing that anyway.”  
  
“And now you have a front-row seat,” Riku finishes. Vanitas is almost smirking. It’s a strange, tense half-smile that Riku can only read as him being uncomfortable. It may not be quite right, but it’s all he has. He still can’t read Vanitas very well. Once he stopped comparing him to Sora, all of those previous insinuations fell apart. He only has to look at Vanitas to know that. Riku has no idea what he’s thinking right now. Maybe one day, he’ll finally, truly understand. But until then, all he can do is sigh. “Now, do you want to play some games or not?”

Vanitas scoffs and slowly stalks out of the kitchen. “Whatever.”  
  
_Good enough_. Riku smiles and pulls two cans of soda out of the fridge, following him into the other room.  
  
As it turns out, Vanitas is really good at video games.

And then Sora calls a few days later. Riku wakes up alone in bed, hearing Sora shout excitedly through the phone:  
  
“—accepted! You were right! And it looks like a lot of my credits will actually transfer over, which is a relief. I really didn’t want to suffer through calculus again. I barely survived the first time. If you hadn’t helped me out, I would’ve been screwed. I can’t believe how fast they—I mean, my grades are **okay** , not **great**. But—Riku, are you listening to me? Wake up!”  
  
“Slow down.” He runs a hand down his face. “What’s going on?”  
  
Sora huffs, but his tone betrays him. He’s obviously smiling. “Listen carefully this time, sleepyhead. My university transfer was accepted!”  
  
It’s like getting kicked in the chest. In the best way. “It was?”  
  
“Yes! So, in a few months… I’ll be right there with you. Well, I mean,” he stumbles, “across town from you. Nearby.”  
  
Riku tries his best to not laugh. “That’s great.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sora snickers. “It’s pretty great.”  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! Thanks so, sooo much to everyone that's left comments and kudos and everything. You're all beautiful and appreciated.
> 
> I... have even less to say about this one. Uh... I seem to have a thing for beverages and conversation. A very vague aesthetic, but it appears to be working for me! Dialogue is tricky~
> 
> But wow. The last chapter is going to be loooong. (Comparatively.)
> 
> Anyway, since I almost quoted it word-for-word, I'll leave you with a line from the song that helped me slog through the first half of this chapter. And name it, even.
> 
> "Or we can turn the light off and go back to bed,  
> Stare at the stars on your ceiling and pretend that we're somewhere else."  
> ("Parachute," Neck Deep)
> 
> Until next time~


	4. Lightning

**4  
  
  
  
**

  
  
“C’mon. We’re gonna be late.”  
  
Sora makes some kind of panicked noise from the other side of the door. “Got it!” he calls, followed by the sound of opening drawers.  
  
Riku leans against he doorjamb with a tilt of his head. “Are you going through my stuff?”  
  
“No!” That tone isn’t convincing at all.  
  
“Just try to not make a mess,” he sighs, defeated again. He can’t do anything about it now.  
  
The only answer is muffled laughter. Well. At least he’s having fun.  
  
Although, Riku isn’t too worried about time, because honestly, he’s used to Sora showing up at the last possible moment. It’s like a trademark. Sora is always late. That’s why Riku told him the concert starts half an hour before it actually does. Contingency plans make things happen.  
  
Even so, this was Sora’s idea in the first place. He could be a little more punctual.  
  
Yeah, right. That’s probably not possible.  
  
He was complaining that he’s never been to a rock concert. And even though Riku told him of the many horrors—ranging from stampeding walls-of-death to sweaty crowd-surfers—Sora insisted. How is Riku supposed to say no to that? So he picked a punk show. It shouldn’t be so bad. Not as intense as metalcore, in any case. Like when he met Vanitas, and the circle pit opened up between them. And Riku saw Vanitas smile with someone else’s blood on his face.  
  
Riku shakes his head. No way.  
  
And maybe it’ll be fun. Maybe Sora will enjoy it. Maybe it will act as a benchmark for things to come. They really haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, even though the distance between them has now significantly decreased. Ever since he transferred to a university across town, their schedules rarely match up. For two months. It’s maddening. They talk regularly, but… It’s like he’s within arms-reach, but he won’t hold still. They don’t cross paths very often.  
  
But Sora is still getting used to the transition, so Riku can’t push it. He **wants** to, but that’s a different issue.  
  
He listens to Sora rummaging through his drawers with the faintest smile. What is he even looking for?  
  
Riku guesses he’ll find out soon enough. He tries to stay rather passive. About most things. _Well_ , he muses in the quiet, except for one. His pursuit. The person in the next room rifling through his wardrobe in search of god-knows-what.  
  
For months now, bit by bit, he’s dropped all pretenses. There’s no point to them anymore. Sora already knows how he feels. Why act like it isn’t true? And by this point, even the embarrassment has diminished. Probably because, as he constantly reminds himself, Sora already knows.  
  
Besides, he told Vanitas that he wouldn’t be idle.  
  
It isn’t easy. Not at all. It’s a thin line to tread—offering support and affection without being overwhelming. Unwanted. Awkward. Exhausting.  
  
Some nights those thoughts are so loud. He wonders why he even bothers.  
  
But he does it anyway. He can only hope that it’s worth it.  
  
Or, at least, not detrimental.  
  
Sora isn’t avoiding him or anything… so, that’s a good sign. Right?  
  
The bedroom door is suddenly flung wide. Riku’s mouth falls open when Sora emerges wearing Vanitas’s shirt. It’s the shirt Vanitas had left in a pile on the floor of Riku’s bedroom after drowning their frustrations in bourbon a few months ago. Riku had planned to return it eventually—or really, exchange it for the concert tee Vanitas had stolen the next morning—but never got around to it.

And now Sora’s wearing it with the most amused look on his face.

“What’s up with this?” he snickers. “It’s a little big for me, but it’s **way** too small for you. Where’d you even get it?” He fiddles with the aggressive fringe of the torn-off sleeves.

“It’s, uh… a friend’s,” Riku stammers. He’s not sure why. At this point, it’s true. Vanitas is his friend. He’s not anything else. Not anymore.

“Oh, yeah?” There’s a ripple of something across his face. It’s barely noticeable.  
  
But Riku sees it. He always does. “Yeah. I keep forgetting to give it back to him.”  
  
Sora’s laugh is quiet as he slips back through the door. “He must have bizarre taste.”  
  
“You have no idea…”  
  
Only a moment later, Sora returns wearing his own shirt. “Ready!”  
  
_Wait a minute_. “Is that what you were looking for?” Sora just nods. “So why was it in **my** drawers?”  
  
“I hid some stuff here last month,” he grins, pulling his arms behind his head. “But then I forgot where I hid it, so it took a while to find.”  
  
That is so like him; Riku can’t even find the words.  
  
“So, let’s go!”  
  
Why fight it? They’ve wasted enough time. So they leave for the concert venue, a small bar with a stage and standing-room-only, arriving with plenty of time to spare. There’s a line of people all the way down the block. They slowly slip inside one by one. The signs on the blackened windows of the bar read ‘SOLD OUT’.  
  
Sora finds the actual start time of the show on those signs and purses his lips. His eyes dart to Riku accusingly. “Hey.”  
  
Riku bites down on his laugh. “Don’t pout. We made it on time.”  
  
“I’m not pouting!”  
  
Wow. Now he definitely is. “Whatever you say,” he smirks, and passes through the huddle of door security.  
  
Sora huffs and follows him inside. It’s filled to the brim with people. They fight through the crowd and wait by the bar, eventually deciding on whatever beer is listed on special. Even if it’s terrible. (Which it is.) But it’s the principle of the thing. It’s all a part of the experience. Riku wants this to be as legitimate as possible. And maybe this will become more than a one-time thing.  
  
Well. It’s wishful thinking.  
  
Sora drags him back through the mob as soon as they get their drinks. They head closer to the stage, where the crowd closes in tight and presses them shoulder-to-shoulder. The proximity is only slightly distracting. Sora stands on his toes to see the stage over the sea of people. He’s clearly excited. It’s cute.  
  
Riku takes a long pull of mediocre beer, as if to drown the thought. This is not the place.  
  
Sora is too preoccupied with looking around to pay him any attention. He studies the instruments on stage, sipping on his own bottle with surprising speed. It’s a good thing the beer isn’t particularly strong. But still. He might want to take it easy. They don’t need a repeat of last time. Then again, they walked here, so Riku supposes it’s alright. As long as he doesn’t have to carry Sora back to the apartment, anyway.  
  
He can’t stop the laugh. The images running through his head are ridiculous.  
  
“What’s up?” Sora asks over the din, probably after catching the amused look on Riku’s face.  
  
He shakes his head. “If you get too drunk, I’m not carrying you.”  
  
Sora starts to glare at him, but it just as quickly turns into a smirk. “Yes you would.”  
  
Why does he sound so sure about that? “You think so?”  
  
“I know so,” he grins from behind the beer bottle, taking another rebellious sip. “And when you do, I’ll throw my arms out like I’m flying.”  
  
“I’ll drop you.”  
  
Sora bursts out laughing. “You’re a terrible liar.”  
  
That sounds familiar. And he slips into a flashback, back to the small pub bathroom, where Sora once told him the same thing. Only, back then, the tone was nowhere near as lighthearted. Riku shakes the thoughts loose. “So I’ve been told.”  
  
Sora is still snickering. Cheeky. “Maybe next time.”  
  
A shrug rolls from his shoulders. He doesn’t have anything to say to that.  
  
But he doesn’t have to, because the opening act soon steps onto the stage and the crowd erupts. Sora bounces as the guitars sing and first note is struck, despite only being vaguely familiar with the band. Riku has to admit that he doesn’t know much about the group either, but they have an incredible presence. It’s hard to take his eyes off of them.  
  
The crowd jostles and sways like an uneasy tide. People are suddenly shifting this way and that. A pit must’ve opened up somewhere. Luckily, they’re nowhere near it, and Sora is too focused on the band to care. The music is so loud it surrounds them. It pierces right through them. The thump of the bass is strong enough to rearrange their heartbeats.  
  
Riku chances a glace at Sora. His eyes are open wide in shock and awe. That smile could break his face in two. Perfect.  
  
The crowd erupts again several songs later, once the band is finished with their set. The musicians disappear backstage. Sora grabs Riku’s shoulders and shakes him viciously. “That was awesome!”  
  
Riku just laughs. “It was.”  
  
“They even played the song I like! The one I can never remember the name of!”  
  
“Right.”  
  
He can’t seem to catch his breath. The excitement is buzzing through him like an electric current. “Okay! I’m going to get another drink,” he holds up the empty bottle for emphasis. “You want anything?”  
  
“Nah. I’m good.” He raises his own bottle. It’s only half gone. He was too wrapped up in the music and the band and Sora’s reactions to everything to actually drink it.  
  
Sora nods and disappears through the crowd, back towards the bar, which is sure to be swarming with other people needing refills. Riku stands alone for several minutes and watches the crew remove the band’s equipment. A guy in all black deftly coils a long cord into loops, while two others break down the drum kit. It’s a process. He mechanically finishes his drink in the meantime.  
  
His phone buzzes within his pocket. He snatches it up and finds a message out of nowhere. From Vanitas?

 

{You’re one sick bastard.}

 

He can only imagine Vanitas saying this with a dark grin on his face. Riku stares confusedly at the screen for a while trying to figure out the context, but nothing comes to mind.

 

  
[You think so?]

  
  
{I know so.}  
  
  
Well, shit. That didn’t help at all.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Sora asks, sliding back through the crowd with a bottle in-hand.  
  
Riku shakes his head. The confusion must be showing on his face. “Just a weird message.”

“Someone you know?”

“Yeah, thankfully.” He thumbs another quick reply, already giving up on guessing.

  
  
[Care to fill me in?]

  
  
{I’ll consider it.}  
{If you buy the next round.}  
  
  
_Hold up._ A strange surge of panic washes over him. Does that mean he’s—? Riku’s eyes dart feverishly around the crowd.

Sora tilts his head. “You okay?”  
  
He honestly doesn’t know. The phone buzzes again before he can answer.

  
  
{Stage left, idiot.}

  
  
_Fuck_. It’s true. He looks up across the venue, towards stage left, and of course he sees a familiar shadow propped against the wall with a clear drink in one hand and a smartphone in the other. Even in the dim light of the bar, he can clearly make out Vanitas’s proud, sadistic expression.

Riku glares at him. It’s the only thing he can do.

Vanitas slowly raises his glass into the air, and sticks out his tongue.

“Real mature,” Riku scoffs.

“Huh?” Sora answers.

_Shit._ He’d almost forgotten where he was.

Sora attempts to follow his line of sight. “What are you looking at?”

Riku runs a hand down his face. “Nothing important.” He supposes it was only a matter of time. Especially since Sora is now in the city full-time. But still, he didn’t really want it to pan out  **this** way.

Vanitas knows  now . He saw Sora, and put all the pieces together. And he’s  **amused** by it. Asshole.

Well, he’s not exactly  **wrong** , either. Riku is well-aware that he’s sick and broken. He just doesn’t want or need Vanitas pointing it out as well!

And on cue, another message comes through:

  
  
{I’m drinking gin and tonic, by the way.}

 

  
[I’m guessing it’s not house gin either]

  
  
{You know me so well.}

  
  
[I know you’re not a cheap date]

  
  
{Which is why we’ve never been on one.}  
{But keep dreaming. You’re good at that, right?}

  
  
Oh, he’s infuriating.

“What’s so funny?” Sora pipes up, taking an awkward pull of his drink.

Riku slips the phone back into his pocket. “Huh?”  
  
“You were laughing at something.”

He didn’t even realize. “Oh. It’s nothing, really. Just more weird messages.” Sora shrugs like he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press the issue.  Riku takes another glance over the crowd.  “ I’m going to get another drink.”

“Good luck. The line is crazy!”

Riku nods. He’s sure it is. It’s a sold out show, after all.

He nimbly wades through the  crowd . The next band should start in a few minutes, so most of the  people ha ve migrated closer to the stage. The line at the bar is only slightly ridiculous. He begrudgingly orders a gin and tonic, along with his second—and final—beer. Then he heads towards the opposite end of the venue,  where Vanitas is still leaning casually against the wall with an empty  cup at his feet. 

Riku shoves the drink into his hand with nothing but a glare.

Vanitas grins devilishly up at him. “You’re slow.” His breath is thick with gin. Riku notices the familiar glassy sheen in his eyes.

“How much have you had?”

“Not nearly enough.”

Riku laughs through his nose. “That bad, huh?”

He shrugs. “Just enjoying myself.”  Riku is inclined to believe him. “I’m guessing you came here with Sora.”

“I did.”

Vanitas snickers into his drink. “So that’s him. I should be insulted. Or repulsed.”

“But you’re not,” he grins. Why is he grinning?

“I’m not.” He has another slow pull of gin. His smirk doesn’t fade at all. “How embarrassing for you.”

That Vanitas has seen through Riku’s terrible decisions? Probably. “I’m aware,” Riku grimaces.

Vanitas doesn’t say anything else. His eyes have already wandered off towards the stage, where the bassist is currently checking his equipment.

Riku watches the vacant look in his face. He takes a thoughtful drink of beer. “Should I introduce you?” The words tumble out of his mouth before his brain can stop them. He can’t even blame the alcohol this time. He’s still completely sober.

Vanitas, on the other hand, is not quite as sober, and bursts out laughing. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he shrugs.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” His voice raises in pitch: “’Hi, I’m Vanitas, and I used to fuck your friend’s brains out on a regular basis.’”  
  
Riku doesn’t flinch. “Maybe you **shouldn’t** lead with that.”  
  
“Right,” he scoffs, pulling another sip of his drink.  
  
“I won’t force you, but I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Even though it probably is.”  
  
Vanitas chuckles at that. “Wouldn’t I be interrupting your date?” he asks, despite the fact that he clearly doesn’t care about such things.  
  
“It’ll be fine. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that considers it a date.”  
  
“Now that’s just depressing.”  
  
“Not as depressing as me being your only friend.”  
  
“Implying that I consider it depressing.” He sounds nonchalant about it, but Riku can’t miss the scowl on his face.  
  
He smirks from behind the lip of the bottle. “Knowing you, the fact that you have a friend at all is what’s depressing.”  
  
“And it had to be **you** , of all people,” he mutters.  
  
Riku stands there and lets him think it over for a moment, having a slow drink of beer. He’s can’t wait much longer. “Well?”  
  
Vanitas pulls himself off the wall. “Fuck it,” he grumbles. “Why not? It’ll be interesting. Besides, I’ll get to fuck with you some more.”  
  
He can only roll his eyes. “How reassuring.”

“I’ll be sure to laugh at your misery with all my heart,” and he splays a hand over his chest with grand emphasis.  
  
“Whatever is left of it.” _Finally_. He’s been gone long enough. So he takes the lead and begins the trek back across the concert venue. The next band should be starting soon. The crowd is growing restless.  
  
Vanitas smoothly follows him through the mass of people. “Now if only Blondie was here. It would be a real party,” he muses.  
  
Riku immediately imagines the chaos that would ensue, the injuries that would be inflicted, and can’t stop himself from laughing. “Is that what you’d call it?”  
  
His answer is just more laughter.  
  
As Riku approaches his previous spot in the crowd, he meets Sora’s wide, open-mouthed stare. Not surprising. Riku swallows back his unease and raises his hand like a greeting.  
  
Then he hears Vanitas snort, presumably at the gaping look on Sora’s face. “He’s a catch in more ways than one.”  
  
Riku chooses to ignore that comment. He opens his mouth to officially introduce them, but he doesn’t get the chance. Both Vanitas and Sora take quick steps forward, identical faces eyeing each other in fascination.  
  
“This is fucking uncanny,” Vanitas smirks.  
  
Sora only says “Whoa.”  
  
“Isn’t meeting your doppelganger supposed to be bad luck?”  
  
“I hope not,” Sora admits, eyes still searching over Vanitas’s face.  
  
Riku clears his throat. “Sora, this is Vanitas. He’s a friend of mine.”  
  
Vanitas is grinning like a villain. “I’m sure you can guess why.”  
  
“It’s honestly the only reason I can stand you,” Riku adds, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Golden eyes finally turn and glare back at him.  
  
He just shrugs and puts on a grin of his own. “Vanitas, this is Sora. Don’t scare him, okay?”  
  
“Hey,” Sora protests.  
  
“Trust me, he’s horrible at first impressions.”  
  
Vanitas takes a sip of his drink. His tone holds no malice. “I take offense to that.”

“Because you can’t deny it.”  
  
He also can’t think of a snappy comeback, so he scowls and has another gulp of gin and tonic.  
  
Sora watches the scene unfold in front of him in wonder. “Well, um… Vanitas, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Right,” he nods.  
  
Sora makes a face, and looks back to Riku. “I see what you mean.”  
  
Vanitas only shrugs.  
  
“A sociopath, or so he says,” Riku counters. “But after all this time, I don’t think that’s really true.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Nah, you’re not a sociopath. You’re just an asshole.”  
  
“Am I supposed to feel **bad** about that, or something?”  
  
_Huh_. Riku has no comeback for that one.  
  
“Point.” Sora raises a hand in Vanitas’s direction. Riku gives him a look. “The score is tied.”  
  
“You’re keeping score?”  
  
Sora grins at him. “C’mon, Riku, are you worried? Does this mean you’ve finally met your match at witty banter?”  
  
Riku’s eyes narrow. That’s a little insulting.  
  
Vanitas starts laughing, and slings an arm around Sora’s shoulders—much to Riku’s anxiousness. “You know, you’re not so bad. I might like you.”  
  
Sora’s grin doesn’t fade as he meets Vanitas’s stare. “Not as much as Riku does, I hope.”  
  
And Riku almost chokes on his drink. He ends up coughing until it hurts.  
  
Vanitas laughs so hard that tears form in his eyes.  
  
“Sorry,” Sora chuckles. An uneasy smile forms on his face. “That was too much.”  
  
“No, it’s… It’s fine,” Riku practically wheezes. “Just unexpected.”  
  
When Vanitas finally gathers himself, he raises a hand. “Point: Sora. The score is tied.”  
  
Sora pumps his fist, but his celebration is smothered by the sound of the main event finally starting. The crowd bursts into cheers as music thunders from the speakers.  
  
This band is a little heavier than the opening act. And they kill it. They command the attention of the crowd and create a maddening energy. Sora is already bouncing to the melody.  
  
Two songs in, Vanitas shoves his empty cup into Riku’s hands and disappears into the crowd, presumably towards whatever pit is forming. Sora turns confusedly, as if to ask ‘ _Where is he going?_ ’ over the roar of the music.  
  
Riku only shakes his head. _He’s insane_.  
  
Somehow, Sora seems to receive that silent message, and he nods. His attention goes back towards the stage as the crowd jostles to the spastic rhythm.  
  
It’s not thirty seconds later that Sora suddenly darts through the mass of people as well, as if to follow Vanitas to the pit.  
  
Riku calls out to him, but he can’t even hear himself over the raging instruments. No good. Sora’s already gone. He vanishes into the horrid maw of the crowd. _Just perfect._  
  
And **of course** Riku goes after him because he **always does**.  
  
He reaches the edge of the pit and braces himself for the inevitable impact. There are several people bouncing off of and throwing themselves at each other, including those standing at the rim of the pit. It’s a mess of flailing arms and small stampedes, while the edges are lined with hands that both catch and shove. The center remains a blur of people as the heavy part of the song hits.  
  
Riku pushes three people back into the fray before Vanitas crashes into him—probably on purpose. That wicked grin of his all but proves it. His eyes are shining with mischief and alcohol. How is he even still standing?  
  
Vanitas brings a hand to Riku’s cheek. _What_ _the_ _—_ He’s sneering.  
  
Riku glares.  
  
He’s making fun of him.  
  
So he shoves Vanitas back into the pit. The black-haired boy cackles as he spins away, ricocheting off of other members of the crowd. Riku mutters a swear that no one hears. A second later, he spots Sora careening across the pit with that bright smile still stuck on his face. It’s amazing. That smile doesn’t drop. Not even when he takes a direct hit across his chest, or a hard punch to his arm. He just laughs it off.  
  
Riku narrows his eyes. There’s no way Sora is **that** far gone. It must be the adrenaline. Or maybe he’s enjoying it as “part of the experience.” Admittedly, jumping headlong into a mosh pit is as legitimate as it gets.  
  
The song ends, and Sora returns to Riku’s spot in the crowd. His smile has turned sheepish, like he expects some kind of scolding.  
  
But Vanitas slides up next to him before either of them can speak. “You’re gonna have to throw harder than that if you don’t want to get trampled.”  
  
The look on Sora’s face… He’s taking Vanitas completely seriously. “Yeah?”  
  
“Way harder,” he has to yell to be heard over the crowd. “Like a wall.”  
  
“Okay,” he nods earnestly.  
  
What the hell is happening now? “Are you **training** him?” Riku asks.  
  
Vanitas scoffs loudly, folding his arms over his chest. “Are you saying I’m not qualified? I didn’t see **you** in there.”  
  
“That’s right!” Sora adds.  
  
_No, really. What the hell is happening?_ Since when did these two team up against him?  
  
He doesn’t even have the chance to ask. The next song fires up and smothers everything else. Riku has to let it go.  
  
Vanitas grabs Sora’s arm and pulls him towards the next pit.  
  
_Great_.  
  
Riku gives up on following them around. Vanitas already has his claws in Sora. There’s no telling where they’ll go. Wherever the tide of the crowd takes them, he guesses.  
  
The set is long, and Riku only catches glimpses of the two within the mass of people. Sora returns every so often, as if to check in, before diving back or being pulled in by Vanitas.  
  
This isn’t exactly what Riku had in mind for the evening, but if Sora is having fun, he can’t really complain. That was the whole point, after all.  
  
Besides, it’s not so bad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself as well. The band puts on one hell of a show, and he gets to see Sora’s ecstatic grin in-between every song.  
  
At the end of the final number, both the speakers and the audience burst with noise.  
  
And that’s it. The show’s over. Most of the crowd ventures towards the exit, with several people stopping to hover over the merch booths.  
  
Sora and Vanitas emerge from the wall of people. They’re covered in sweat and, probably, bruises. It’s almost unreal. They look so much alike. They could easily pass as brothers. Riku has always known this, but seeing them side-by-side is enough to make him realize it all over again.  
  
Sora is laughing at something Vanitas is saying. Whatever it is, Riku only catches the end of it. “— Don’t jump in if you can’t fucking take it. Right?”  
  
“I guess so,” he chuckles, before returning to Riku’s side. “Now what?”  
  
Vanitas is sneering again. How nice.  
  
Riku does his best to ignore it. “We pay our tab and leave.”  
  
“They kick you out of the bar as soon as the show’s over,” Vanitas nods.  
  
“Right.” He remembers getting an eerily similar text message from him once before.  
  
“And when you plan on having three or four gin and tonics, you pay as you drink. So you can keep track.” He winks at Sora like he’s just bestowed some kind of sage advice upon him.  
  
Sora nods slowly, still taking him far too seriously. Or maybe he’s just humouring him.  
  
Riku almost rolls his eyes. He looks at Sora. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.” It’s not an offer, so much as a statement.  
  
“Thanks,” he smiles.  
  
Vanitas is giving him some kind of look that he can’t read. At the very least, he knows he doesn’t like it. _Whatever_. He moves towards the bar, hoping that Vanitas won’t do anything too bizarre while he’s gone.  
  
But what could he possibly do? What could he **say**? Sora already knows everything.  
  
Well. Almost everything. Hopefully he hasn’t figured out the truth behind his and Vanitas’s relationship yet. Riku really doesn’t feel like explaining **that** catastrophe. But as it stands, that’s the only thing he’s left in the dark. It’s the only thing Sora doesn’t know.  
  
It only takes a few minutes to pay his and Sora’s tabs. He doesn’t waste time heading back.  
  
The two are just having a conversation. Seems friendly enough. They don’t appear to notice him yet. He’s almost rejoined them when he hears Vanitas scoff: “What’s this? Are you jealous?”  
  
“Not at all,” Sora laughs.  
  
Vanitas makes a face like he doesn’t believe him.  
  
“Should I be?” Riku doesn’t actually hear Sora say this. He’s too far away, that voice is too small. But he sees Sora’s mouth shape the words, and his legs stop moving. _What does that—?_ What will Vanitas say?  
  
He slowly stretches his arms above his head. “Only if you envy futility.”  
  
Sora’s eyes soften. He carefully searches for his words. “Ya know, that… sounds kinda sad.”  
  
Riku agrees.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t continue. He isn’t offering anything either.  
  
_What does that mean?_  
  
Riku watches the same question appear on Sora’s face.  
  
There’s no way of knowing. Because if Riku has learned anything over the last few months, it’s that Vanitas speaks in circles. Nothing he says should ever be taken at face-value. It can be really difficult to read his intentions.  
  
But he’s also an asshole, and loves toying with people.  
  
Riku sighs. Only Vanitas himself will ever know for sure. Probably.  
  
He rejoins their group, and Vanitas meets him with an easy grin. Sora’s smile, on the other hand, is slightly troubled. Most likely because of the conversation the two were just having.  
  
“Something wrong?” Riku asks.  
  
They shake their heads at the same time. “Nah,” Vanitas waves a hand. “We were just talking. Honest.”  
  
Riku gives him a pointed look. He’s making himself sound suspicious on purpose. But why?  
  
Sora interrupts before he can figure it out: “Yeah, actually.” That settles it. The subject is officially closed, and Riku may never understand Vanitas’s intentions. “You ready?”  
  
_Oh, well._ “Yeah.” He can wonder about it later. “Let’s go.”  
  
Sora nods and joins what’s left of the crowd, slowly milling towards the exit. Vanitas merely shrugs and hangs back for a bit. Golden eyes watch Sora like a predator.  
  
Riku waits for him to do something. There’s clearly something on his mind. He only gets to question it for an instant before Vanitas leans in close—just as soon as Sora’s out of earshot. “Fifty dollars says I can persuade him into a threesome within a year.”

“Vanitas, no,” he snaps. Is that **really** what he’s been thinking this entire time? Riku’s never rolled his eyes so hard in his life. The idea is already leaving a trail of heat over his cheeks. Whether he’s ashamed or aroused, he doesn’t know.

That laugh is downright wicked. “What a strange way of agreeing.”

“Because it **wasn’t** an agreement,” he warns, but Vanitas’s smile doesn’t fade at all. “Don’t you dare.”

He merely holds up his hands, as if giving up. Riku doesn’t believe it for a second. “I make no promises.”

_There it is._ He keeps his glare as firm as he’s able.  
  
But it doesn’t bother Vanitas at all. He tilts into the crowd after Sora, still laughing to himself about it.  
  
Riku pulls a hand down his face and heads out as well. He can only imagine what kind of expression he’s wearing. It must be a good one, to make Vanitas laugh like that. He tells himself it’s not important. Vanitas is just making good on his promise to laugh at Riku’s misery, and he’s doing a fantastic job of it. Riku threads his way through the dwindling mass of people to the sidewalk outside, where Sora stands alone under a hazy lamppost. Vanitas is nowhere nearby. _But where—?_  
  
Sora effortlessly reads the confusion on his face and points down the street.   
  
Vanitas is already leaving. Without even saying goodbye? No, that’s not so strange. When Riku really thinks about it, he’s never known Vanitas to ever say such things. As if greetings and farewells are so menial and beneath him. As if they’re not worth his time.  
  
Riku watches Vanitas retreat down the sidewalk. There isn’t anything noticeably **off** about him or his stance, but—  
  
“You’re worried,” Sora says.  
  
Riku looks at him. “What makes you say that?”  
  
He only laughs. “C’mon, you think I can’t tell?” Then he tosses his head in Vanitas’s direction. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”  
  
That’s all he needs. He takes off after Vanitas with quick footsteps, only calling for him once he’s closed most of the distance. “Hey.” There’s no reaction. “Vanitas.” Still nothing. He had to have heard it. Is he ignoring him? “Vanny, wait.”  
  
Vanitas’s eyes narrow into blades as he turns. Riku can hear his thoughts silently raging: ‘ _What the fuck did you just call me?_ ’ Well. It got him to turn around, didn’t it?  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay? We could walk you home, or—” wait, no. They can’t. He stops dead in his tracks. How has he not noticed this before? “I don’t know where you live.”  
  
Vanitas’s laugh is explosive. “Because I never told you.”  
  
_Fair enough_. “I can still—”  
  
“It’s fine. I’m not **that** far gone. Now stop annoying me.”  
  
He starts to walk away. Riku can’t ignore the gnawing feeling eating away at his insides. “Vanitas, are you  really okay?” It’s enough to make him stop. “I haven’t… hurt you or anything, have I?”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he spits. “The only way you could ever hurt me is physically.” Then he turns and pokes Riku square in the chest. “And even then, I might like it.”  
  
That sounds like a deflection. “Are you sure?” he asks again, not suggestive at all. After what he overheard Vanitas say to Sora earlier… he means it. Gods, for whatever reason he actually fucking **means** it.  
  
Vanitas only scowls. “I’m not **hurt** , you idiot. How stupid can you be? I’m **frustrated**.”  
  
Riku wonders if he really meant to let that slip. “Frustrated?”  
  
“You’re just another one of them,” he grumbles,  gesturing with both hands. “Someone that’s got to drag their stupid, messy **feelings** all over everything. I just wanted a fuck buddy, and you had to go and turn it into something else.”  
  
“Something **more**.”  
  
“That’s relative,” he dismisses it instantly. “You want to know w hy I’m pissed off? You’re a fucking disappointment.” Vanitas keeps his glare level. Not even the alcohol can mask it. Riku doesn’t know whether to feel attacked or undermined. Then those yellow eyes glance off down the street. “And now I have a friend, but that’s not what I wanted.”  
  
_How awful_ , Riku quips, but can’t say it aloud. It would only make things worse. Is he insulted by Vanitas’s words? He doesn’t really know. But he thinks… maybe he’s been fooling himself this entire time. He’s been acting like he’s doing Vanitas some kind of favor by being his friend, but Vanitas only sees it as a burden. And if that’s true, it’s probably best to put a stop to all of this now.  
  
Riku frowns. That thought hurts more than he thought it would. “Is it really so bad?”  
  
Vanitas looks like he has a headache. There’s only a moment’s hesitation. “It’s not terrible.”  
  
What a backhanded response. He’d scoff, but he’s too relieved to be snarky. Too shocked. Vanitas is a puzzle that Riku is in no hurry to figure out. He’d probably lose his mind on the way down, anyway. “I think that’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me,” he admits.  
  
“Fuck you; don’t get all squishy on me.”  
  
“Sorry,” he laughs. “But honestly, I thought you were going to tell me to get lost.”  
  
Vanitas rolls his eyes. “Keep acting like an idiot, and I might still do that.”  
  
“Duly noted.”  
  
“And if you call me ‘Vanny’ **ever** **again** , I’ll scoop out your tongue and keep it in a trophy case.”  
  
“Right. Got it.”   
  
“Good.” His grin is almost manic, and that glassy look finally returns to his eyes. He’s fallen back through the swirling haze of gin and tonic. All of his seriousness fizzles away. He starts walking slowly backwards. “You’ve left your boyfriend waiting.”  
  
“Sure,” Riku scoffs. There’s no point in correcting it. It would only encourage him.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t drop his grin. “So stop annoying me already.” And he turns on his heel and continues down the sidewalk. There’s still nothing off about his stance.  
  
Riku lets him go. He returns to the entrance of the bar, where Sora stands against the building, passively admiring the skyline.  
  
He smiles as he notices Riku approaching. “Everything okay?”  
  
That smile threatens to steal his breath away. “Yeah. Everything’s great.”  
  
“That’s good.” He glances back up at the city lights, and something solemn comes over his face. The silence is brief. “You know… you can’t see the stars as well as you can back home.”  
  
That’s true. It’s the city, after all. “Do you miss it?”  
  
“Sometimes,” Sora shrugs. His eyes squint at the hazy light pollution above them. “But I just have to remind myself that the stars still there, even if I can’t see them right now. They’re not going anywhere.”  
  
“Let’s hope so.”  
  
Sora snickers into his hand. “If that really happened, I think stargazing would be the least of my worries.”  
  
“Right,” he chuckles. “C’mon, let’s head back.”  
  
He pushes himself off the wall with an affirmative grunt. “Hey, I was just thinking… do you still have that beer at home? The one we had before?”  
  
Sounds like he already has a plan in mind. “I do.”  
  
Sora grins and follows him down the sidewalk. “Awesome.”   
  
It’s a surprisingly warm evening for early spring, and they spend the walk back to the apartment talking about the concert. Including the brand-new bruise currently blooming beneath Sora’s right shoulder. He only laughs when Riku brings it up, saying it was “worth it.” Riku isn’t entirely sure what he means. A few blocks later, they’re back at Riku’s place, sitting on the sofa and sharing a pack of local blonde ale. The same peppery beer that got them into such a mess several months ago.  
  
It feels like so long ago now. Pretty soon they’ll be able to laugh about it, right?  
  
Riku wonders about that. Maybe they already are.  
  
At the bottom of the first bottle, Sora thinks aloud about how weird it is to meet someone that looks so much like him. “But he’s nothing like me,” he blurts. “From what I saw, I mean… I guess I don’t really **know** him, huh?”  
  
Riku just shrugs. “There are **some** similarities. But to be honest, I don’t think I really know  him either. He’s always surprising me.”  
  
Sora hums and opens another bottle, saying nothing else about it. The conversation moves on. It seems a little odd, but alcohol always makes Sora’s mind do strange things. He’ll make the most incredible leaps in topic in a split second. But he’s only one bottle deep, plus whatever is left of the two cheap beers he had at the concert. It’s hard to tell how affected he is right now.   
  
But by the end of the third bottle, it becomes very, very obvious.   
  
“Riku,” he stretches the name out for much longer than necessary. “C’mere.”  
  
That does it. No more for him. “Okay, lightweight. You’re cut off,” he calls from the kitchen. He tries his best to be serious about it, but can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. That’s to be expected. He’s also had three bottles. The alcohol is messing with his head in a completely different way.  
  
Sora pouts for only a second. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” He stumbles through the word ‘probably,’ reinforcing the decision.  
  
“Definitely,” Riku laughs, and sits on the arm of the sofa. “So, what is it?”   
  
“Okay. I have a question. I’m pretty drunk, but I still wanna ask you—it’s probably **why** I wanna ask you,” he  chuckles. “But, well… how do I know?”  
  
That’s really vague. “Know what?”  
  
“I was just thinking,” Sora rambles, drunken mind going off on a tangent, as usual. “Is it what you’re willing to **do** , or something you **feel** , or what? What is it?”  
  
Riku gives him a look. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Because my friends are pretty great, ya know? I’d do next to anything for them.” His head rolls back to rest on the ridge of the couch, and he snickers at the ceiling. “I’d probably kill for you.”  
  
_Huh?_ His eyebrows fly upwards. There’s a sharp twinge in his chest. But still, it’s absurd. He has to laugh. “You’re drunk.”  
  
Sora waves his entire arm at him. “I already said that.”  
  
“That doesn’t make it any less true,” he jabs. Sora sticks out his tongue. “But I…” then he stops short. _Damn it_ , “What were we talking about?” The subject has jumped so many times, he honestly can’t remember.  
  
“You’re drunk,” Sora says in a voice that’s slightly lower than normal.  
  
“Was that supposed to sound like me?”  
  
“I’ve been practicing,” he grins.  
  
“Don’t practice that.”  
  
Sora laughs so hard he almost falls over, and then he instantly snaps out of it: “Wait! I remember! You never answered my question. How do I know?”  
  
_Oh, right._ That was it. “That’s so vague. What do you mean?”  
  
“Love!” he blurts, and Riku is frozen in place.  
  
“S-seriously?”  
  
“You know, don’t you?”  
  
He can’t even nod his head. What kind of question is that? “I’m not exactly an expert.”  
  
“But you **know**.”  He leans closer. Riku can’t look at him either. He stares at the floor, unable to move. His blood runs hot. “You told me so. Remember?”  
  
_Right._ “How could I forget?”  
  
“Who else am I supposed to ask?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“I spent so long… with what I **thought** was love, so… I have no idea what it actually **is**.  I’ve thought about it, but… How am I supposed to know?”

He sounds so tired. Desperate. Riku finally meets his eyes. Even his mind has shut off. “To know if… If you’re in…”

He nods in absolute seriousness. “Yes.”

Riku stares at him for the longest time. “It… it’s relative, you know. It’s not… the same for everyone. I can’t imagine it is. But if you… It’s… actually… overwhelming.” Sora merely blinks. Riku is unable to break that gaze. What is he even saying? “It’s like… being struck by lightning. Over and over. Every time you see them. Or like you’re in free fall. Like you could crash at any moment. And you can’t breathe. And your heart is going to break out of your chest because it’s too embarrassed to be around you anymore. You feel like you’re going to cave in because it’s gone. So it hurts. But then you see them smile and it makes everything worth it and you know you wouldn’t change anything in a million years.”

Sora carefully studies his face, absorbing the words the best he can. That serious, thoughtful expression has settled over him again. “Is that… how you feel?” he asks.

“ _It is_.” There’s no hesitation.

“Like lightning, huh?” Sora mumbles. “I’ll remember that.”

“Will you, Mr. I’m-Pretty-Drunk?”

He shoots Riku a toothy grin. “Hey. I’m pretty when I’m sober too.”

Riku laughs. He doesn’t argue.  
  
Sora’s face slowly falls back down. “Ya know… feeling like that… doesn’t sound very fun.”  
  
“It isn’t,” he admits. “I guess you could call it… thrilling? Sometimes, anyway. Other times it feels like… it’s going to swallow you whole.” Sora meets his eyes, and again, he can’t look away. They’re locked in a floating moment.  
  
Sora’s thoughts have tilted into overdrive. It’s clear on his face. They don’t speak, or even move, for several dragging seconds. “I’m sorry—for bringing it up,” he sputters. “But I just had to ask you. I’ve wanted to for—well… even before you told me how you felt. So, I…”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
That smile is so forced. There’s another long pause. He cranes his head back towards the ceiling again. “I’ve made it awkward,” he groans.  
  
“That’s fine too.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Positive.”  
  
“Are you okay?” he blurts, catching Riku off-guard again. His drunken mind always makes the most sudden leaps.  
  
‘Okay’ in regards to what? “Yeah.” He only sounds a little unsure of it.  
  
Sora notices, of course, and sends him a critical stare. “Really? Because, honestly, I’ve been worried. Ever since—back then, ya know. When you first told me. So… are you really okay?”  
  
He shifts from his perch on the arm of the couch to sit on it properly. “Sora, I’m fine. Really.” Sora still seems unsure. Riku tries to smile. “Never better.”  
  
That finally does it, and a more genuine smile blooms across his face. “Good.”  
  
“Are **you** okay?” Riku finds himself asking.  
  
“I think so,” he says. He’s gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling again, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “Yeah,” he sighs, chest quietly deflating.  
  
Time slows to a crawl. There it is again. He’s staring. The logical part of his brain is screaming at him to stop, that it’s too weird, but his body refuses to listen. It’s not like Sora’s paying any attention to it, anyway. He’s busy studying the patterns on the ceiling. The smallest hint of a frown tugs at his lips. What could he be thinking about now? That expression is pretty serious. Riku thinks it doesn’t suit him at all. The moment floats there until the room fizzles out of focus around them.  
  
And then Sora’s eyes cut over towards him. _Fuck_. Caught. He really should’ve expected that. But instead of being confused, or surprised, or even uncomfortable—Sora smiles. “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore, huh?”  
  
“ _There’d be no point_ ,” Riku’s mouth answers before his brain even has a chance to understand what Sora just said.  
  
His laugh is soft. “Yeah, I guess not.” Then he pulls in a deep breath, and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t move anymore.  
  
Wait a minute. Is that all? “Are you tired already?”  
  
“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles.  
  
“ _Your eyes are still closed_.”  
  
“I’m totally fine.”  
  
“Yeah, right,” Riku scoffs. “At least drink some water first, or you’ll regret it later.”  
  
“What for?” he whines.  
  
“It might be a placebo, but it always works for me,” he shrugs. “It can’t hurt, right?”  
  
“Fine,” Sora groans, and follows instructions. When he returns, he sits the glass of water on a side table and collapses back onto the couch. This time lying down, curled into a ball. “Goodnight.”  
  
There’s no blanket or anything. Riku rolls his eyes. “If you say so.” No answer. Not that he expected one. He sits there and watches Sora for a second. Or longer. He can’t tell anymore. He stays until Sora’s breathing evens out, turning slow and deep. The only sound in the entire apartment.  
  
He’s just sleeping. It’s nothing exceptional. But through all the beer… No, even if Riku was totally sober, he would find it mesmerizing. He still wouldn’t be able to look away.  
  
Sora mumbles something incoherent in his sleep. He’s already slipped into a dream.  
  
How long has he just been sitting here?  
  
Riku sighs towards the ceiling. He hasn’t decided if he should be embarrassed or not.  
  
It looks like Sora is down for the count. There’s no point in staying up any longer. He’d just be entertaining himself. Riku makes sure to dump a spare pillow and blanket on Sora’s head before going into his room and finally passing out himself.

Around eleven the next morning, Riku eases into the room and finds Sora sprawled across the couch, blankets kicked off and in a dead sleep. The glass of water on the side table is only half gone. Riku shakes his head. He tried to warn him.

There’s something scrawled on Sora’s arm. In the sloppiest strikes of a ballpoint pen Riku has ever seen, yet still unmistakably Sora’s writing, is the word ‘remember’ and a vaguely heart-shaped blotch. It’s hard to say if he’ll actually remember anything. It’s also hard to say if Riku wants him to.  
  
Well. He can’t do anything about it now. He slips into the kitchen and starts brewing some coffee. Sora doesn’t stir. Several minutes later, Riku is able to enjoy a hot cup of coffee from his usual perch on the arm of the couch. The apartment remains quiet.

Time ticks on. Morning becomes noon. Riku’s mug is almost empty. Then Sora makes a small sound, and his face flickers. He’s waking up. He mutters “Oh, hell,” before he even opens his eyes.

Riku smirks as he slowly comes to. “I’d say good morning, but it’s already past noon.”

Sora just stares at him, eyes slowly widening. He doesn’t respond. That expression almost looks like fear. Or shock? Or… How little does he remember?

“You okay?” Riku asks.

Sora continues staring for a long time. The corners of his mouth twitch until he’s smiling. But he still doesn’t say anything. He pops his lips and makes a noise like some cheesy sound effect. It sounds like an explosion. Or maybe—

And Riku freezes.

It’s lightning.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. It's been a wild ride. Much thanks to everyone that's made it this far! Woo! I'm tired. And this is probably one of, if not the ONLY PLACE, where you will ever read about Sora jumping into a mosh pit. You're welcome. (Yeah. I never thought I'd write it, either...)
> 
> These notes are unnecessarily long.
> 
> Anyway. Time for my author’s ramblings, for those that are interested, because there are a few things that I’ve noticed myself that are pretty interesting. Honestly, I do a lot of things subconsciously and the characters surprise me with what they do. This fic is full of so many unintentional parallels. Like the rapport between Riku and Vanitas verses him and Sora, and how the feelings eventually flip. It’s refreshing! I dunno, I thought it was kinda neat. Especially since I didn’t plan it at all. These three dorks slay me.
> 
> I think a lot of people underestimate how unconscious a lot of writing really is. We (or at least I) rarely ever do anything broad on purpose. Most of the time, shit just sort of happens. And then you lean back and look at it like: “Yeah. Wow. That actually works. Awesome.” Case and point: There’s a short bit of conversation between Riku and Sora in this fic that just /insists/ upon its existence. I had to sit there and stare at it for a while like, “This is a metaphor, right? What the fuck does this mean? I can’t just get rid of it. Sora said this for a reason.” (Yes, it was indeed a metaphor, and yes, I eventually figured it out. Ahaha.)
> 
> And my darling Vanitas doesn’t know how to handle any of this, although this is the first time someone’s “messy feelings” are platonic instead of romantic. It still ticks him off, because he’s a little broken. But that’s okay. Most of us are. It seems like his intentions are always misconstrued, no matter how straightforward he is. Unfortunate. He’s trying, though. In his own… hateful way.
> 
> But if we’re going to feel sorry for anyone, let it be Roxas. Poor thing. Vanitas is right, Blondie’s got a lot of issues. If he keeps pining this hard, he’s totally gonna crash. And Axel is kind of an idiot so that’s not helping at all~
> 
> But enough about that. Expect more nonsense from me soon. My roommate sort of pitched a new idea/AU at my face, and since she helped beta this fic… I’m already pretty deep into it help me. It’s another Sora/Riku fic too why do I do this to myself?
> 
> Ya know. One of these days I need to write a true Riku/Vanitas fic. Wouldn’t that be fucking novel. I mean, they are my favourite pairing. Who would’ve guessed!? I have a scrap of an idea for a oneshot lying around here somewhere… Maybe it’ll amount to something one day.
> 
> Anyway, the new AU is called 'Just Go with It.' Keep your eyes peeled for it! Soon-ish! If you actually care, ya know… No pressure.
> 
> Until next time~!


End file.
